Parts of the Process
by Asrai
Summary: And although Ianto goes hurtling through the universe, crossing time and space seems to teach him one thing in particular – that all roads lead to Rome.
1. Parts 1 to 3

**Title:** Parts of the Process

**Author:** Asrai

**Summary: **And although Ianto goes hurtling through the universe, crossing time and space seems to teach him one thing in particular – that all roads lead to Rome.

**Spoilers: **Series 1 of _Torchwood_ and the series 3 finale of _Doctor Who _

**Rating:** PG-13

**Pairing:** Ianto/Jack

**Beta**: Many thanks go to jadesfire2808 who is the most fantastic of beta-readers and made me aware of my pesky love affair with semi-colons. :)

**Disclaimer:** All of the characters used in this fic belong to the BBC; I am making no profit with this and no copyright infringement is intended.

- 1 -

It was a rather subdued team that wearily dumped their equipment in the entrance to the Hub, to be cleared away later.

Gwen plopped down on the couch in an ungraceful heap. Owen sat beside her, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Tosh went over to her station and began punching in the passwords that would allow the system to boot up to full power from the security standby mode. As for Ianto, he began dragging himself up the stairs to see how the pterodactyl had fared in their week of absence.

"Seven days," said Owen, "Seven fucking days, chasing a bloody myth. I'm never doing this again, I swear."

"Technically it was only four days, we spent the rest travelling," Toshiko pointed out but fell silent as Owen snarled at her.

"I can't believe we got sent to the Himalayas for nothing. And why can the Prime Minister – who wasn't even Prime Minister at that point! - send us anywhere anyway?" asked Gwen, "What about that whole 'outside the government' spiel? Aren't we supposed to be independent?"

"Fine, next time you decide whether to comply or not when you get a call from Downing Street," Owen snapped, "How was I supposed to react?"

"Jack would have known," Gwen muttered.

"Yeah, but Jack's gone!" Owen said heatedly and Ianto, sensing an oncoming confrontation, stopped on his way up to the pterodactyl's lair and made a detour to the coffee machine instead. It looked like they could all do with a hot drink to calm them down. Also, both Owen and Gwen couldn't talk with their mouths full, so he started to arrange biscuits on a plate as well.

"Jack is gone," Owen repeated vehemently, "Buggered off fuck knows where with that Doctor bloke and I'm sick of your moaning, all right? 'S not like I don't want him back, but he's gone!"

"About that," Tosh said, interrupting the budding argument, "I think I've found him."

She pointed towards the computer screen where the system was up and fully running and the news from the last few days began pouring in. Toshiko had designed a filtering programme years ago, to sort out the news relevant to Torchwood. She'd set it to specifically scan for any hints of Jack shortly after he'd disappeared, when he'd torn across the Plass and clutched on to an outdated police box for dear life.

"Where is he?" Owen asked frantically, coming to stand behind Tosh and staring at the screen. Ianto, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to join the others in their excited cluster around the computers, but he forced himself to arrange the steaming mugs calmly on a tray and descend the stairs in what appeared to be a collected and rather indifferent manner.

"I don't know yet," Tosh answered, tapping a few keys. "This is the BBC news coverage from three days ago. It seems that Jack has become an enemy of the state?" Her voice had risen incredulously. "Together with the Doctor and a medical student called Martha Jones."

"No relation, I hope?" Gwen asked, turning towards Ianto.

"I think not, look at the pictures," Tosh said, gratefully accepting the cup Ianto offered her. The screens now showed images of Jack, the Doctor and Martha, who was a pretty, dark-skinned woman in her early twenties. Ianto recognised this version of the Doctor with a jolt.

"That's the Doctor all right," he said. "According to the files that's the Doctor No. 1. Our earliest records mention him together with a woman named Lady Rose Tyler of the Powell Estates; there's a sketch of the two of them as well. Both of them were at the Battle of Canary Wharf although there have been some sightings of the Doctor accompanied by other people. Martha Jones here fits the description of a young woman who was with him in 1969."

"1969?" Tosh asked skeptically. "That's almost forty years ago, how could it have been her?"

"We – Torchwood One, that is – have long suspected that the Doctor may be a time traveller," Ianto answered, ignoring the disbelieving looks he was receiving from Gwen and Owen. "It fits in with the various sightings and temporal anomalies in the readings when he's near. We also think that he can change his appearance."

"Blimey," Owen muttered, "And that makes things so much easier."

"But what about Jack?" Gwen asked impatiently.

Toshiko quickly scanned more articles and called up a short video clip, showing Jack, the Doctor and Martha running down a nondescript street, with a news reporter saying that anyone spotting these dangerous terrorists should inform the authorities immediately.

"It doesn't say," Tosh replied. "It doesn't even say what crimes they're supposed to have committed. And there's no mentioning of them at all some hours later, of course. With the assassination of the American President on board of the _Valiant_ and the disappearance of Mr Saxon that's hardly surprising."

"Shit."

"Something fishy is going on here," Owen commented, frowning. "This doesn't feel right. Jack disappearing on us, Saxon's election and then that whole fiasco with the Toclafane – shouldn't we have picked up on aliens contacting the Prime Minister? One week the world nearly ends and the next it goes to hell in a handbasket when we're conveniently dispatched to the bloody end of the world."

"I can run a check-up on Harold Saxon," Tosh offered. "It seems that everything is connected to him – our orders and the Toclafane. Not to forget that he helped to design and construct the _Valiant_."

"You do that," Owen nodded and, as Gwen opened her mouth, he raised his hands. "Listen, I know what you're going to say. But Jack went of his own free will. You've seen him running towards that box! We can't do anything about it right now."

"I can have a look at the older Torchwood records, see if there's any past sightings of the Doctor with someone who matches Jack's description," Ianto offered and Gwen nodded, relieved.

"Thanks, Ianto."

"And in the meantime, I suggest we go home and get some sleep, ladies," Owen said, barely suppressing a yawn. "I don't know about you two, but I haven't slept in two days and I'm knackered. We'll get started properly tomorrow."

"Fine by me," Gwen said and then sighed. "I didn't really have time to explain things to Rhys. He'll be worried sick by now."

Owen snorted. "Whatever. I want you all back here tomorrow morning, bright and early."

Tosh nodded and got up. The three of them took the lift to the surface, leaving Ianto behind. He sat down in Tosh's vacated chair and accessed the news reports again, staring at Jack's photograph. He proceeded to open the records of Torchwood One describing their various sightings of the Doctor over the years, running an automatic search for Jack – somebody matching his age, with roughly the same appearance - in the reports since 1995 and then checking the number of reports left, sightings from before the age of CCTV to find out the number of files he'd have to go through manually.

729.

Ianto sighed and then stood up, stretching languidly to get rid of some of the tiredness and exhaustion that had crept into his bones ever since Jack had disappeared. Looking at the pile of abandoned, dirty equipment lying in the entrance to the Hub, he grimaced and took off his jacket. He'd have to clear their kit away, feed the pterodactyl and get started on these reports if he wanted to avoid getting an earful from a short-tempered Owen in the morning.

Ianto took a sip from his cup of coffee and got started.

- 2 -

From the archives of Torchwood One, file 68/D/β

Last accessed by Ianto Jones, Torchwood Three, 28th of February 2009

Report filed 13th of October 1981 by Brenda Spencer, Torchwood One

Field Operative: Christopher Jason Brown

Date of Observation: 10th of October 1981, 5.13 pm – 5.24 pm

Doctor: description match, see file 23/D/α

Companion(s): - one human male (no image available, no description match, see notes)

Location: Leicester Square, London

Notes:

Operative followed targets for ten minutes before losing sight of them in Leicester square

objective of targets unknown

companion: human male in his late twenties, short brown hair, wearing a military style coat; further details not available, no match in the database

_Note from Ianto: This is the only description of a companion of the Doctor that roughly matches Jack's appearance. Age seems to be a little off, though._

_I'll keep looking._

- 3 -

The police box was standing right outside Ianto's house as he left for work in the morning.

At first he didn't notice it properly; he was busy locking his door, absent-mindedly chewing on a piece of toast and suppressing a yawn. It was ridiculously early to be going to work, especially considering the fact that he'd only come home at midnight last night. At six o'clock in the morning it was still mostly dark outside, with no noise of cars to disturb the damp and heavy silence that signalled the end of the night.

Maybe Ianto would have passed by the blue box entirely if not for the faint light that was shining from its windows as well as the lettering above them, illuminating the usually dark pathway leading to his car.

As it was, he blinked stupidly at the blurry light on the ground in front of him before raising his eyes and nearly choking on his last bit of toast. Ianto recognised the police box as the space-ship belonging to the Doctor. Its unique and slightly odd shape had first been mentioned to him during his two years as a trainee at Torchwood One. He himself had subsequently seen it twice: Once in London, sneaking a forbidden look at it when Yvonne Hartman had tried to confiscate it from the Doctor, and then mere days ago when they'd watched Jack sprint towards it across the Roald Dahl Plass on their recorded CCTV footage.

This ship was where Jack had gone before it had faded from view; this must be where Jack was now.

He took a step towards the box and touched it gingerly. To his surprise it seemed to be made out of ordinary wood; and for a ship housing an incredibly powerful alien it was certainly quite small. The door was fitted with a Yale lock, but it opened easily when Ianto gave it a careful push, still not quite sure what a space ship was doing in his front garden. Had Jack returned? Was that it – had he really come back?

The door swung back and a huge cloud of smoke emanated from the interior of the box.

"Jack?" Ianto called out uncertainly, blinking and coughing. He squinted as he tried to discern anything through the dense and uncomfortably hot smoke. There seemed to be quite a lot of it, considering the size of the box and Ianto gave the door another push so it opened completely. He knocked on the wooden frame; taking a tentative step inside he stretched out his hands, expecting them to meet the back wall of the box. There was nothing but hot emptiness and smoke, however, and Ianto slowly advanced, not quite believing his eyes as they started to make out the shape of a cavernous, huge room.

"Jack?" he called out again, hating how insecure and pleading his own voice sounded.

The fact that the alien known as the Doctor – or Sir Doctor of Tardis as the earliest documents referred to him – seemed to call a blue police box his home had long caused consternation and puzzlement among the researchers at Torchwood. Clearly the box was not very big and at times the Doctor had been observed to enter it in the company of two or three other people. There had been theories and rumours, as well as a certain amount of lewd jokes, making their rounds through the department responsible for tracking the Doctor; the department Lisa had belonged to. She had taken great pleasure in forwarding the most outrageous ones to him via internal mail and it wasn't unusual for her to be still chattering away about this very blue box long after getting home from work.

He'd never seen her more excited than during the day this box had materialised right inside Torchwood Tower.

"Bigger on the inside," Ianto wondered out loud. "It's bigger on the inside!"

He moved further into the room, the smoke finally clearing away. It seemed to emanate from a kind of console in the middle of the room, adorned with a cracked flat screen, numerous buttons and knobs and what appeared to be a bicycle pump. Some sort of column connected it to the ceiling. Ianto turned around, his head thrown back, and took in the whole room: the console to his left, the door to his right. Beams that looked more like organically grown vines made their way up to an impossibly high ceiling and there was another set of doors at the far end of the room. Light seemed to come from everywhere, soft and golden; a worn jump seat was positioned closely to the console.

"Jack?"

Ianto grew acutely uncomfortable. The console looked as if some serious damage had been done to it: the smoke and the black, cracked screen were evidence of that. He was definitely alone in the room and he didn't dare to explore the ship any further.

It all didn't quite make sense: the ship showing up in his garden the day after he'd got back from Nepal; the damage done to it though it looked fine from the outside; the open door and the absence of anybody to give him an explanation. If Jack had returned then surely he'd stay close to the ship at least long enough to wait for Ianto to show up?

Ianto was contemplating calling the Hub to let the others know about his findings when the double doors opened and a young man stumbled into the room, barely more than a boy really. He was dark-skinned, with short, coal-black hair; Ianto thought that he might be from India. His movements were jerky, his steps uncertain and his equilibrium off. Wearing oversized, dark blue clothing that hung from his slender frame he blinked owlishly at Ianto out of eyes that looked half-crazed and unfocused.

"Hello!" he said brightly in a brittle voice, "And who might you be, then?"

"I'm..." Ianto gaped at the young man as he made his way towards the jump seat and sank down on it, moaning softly.

"Where's Jack?" he finally asked carefully.

"Jack? Who's Jack?" the man asked, not giving Ianto the chance to respond before babbling on in clear-cut, British English without any trace of a regional accent, "I might be Jack. You might be Jack! Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things? I mean, look at me, all these gorgeous clothes, I really liked that body and then, bang! everything goes horribly, horribly wrong and I get stuck with _this_," he gestured disdainfully at his body, "Not that I've actually looked in a mirror, mind you, but still... What was I going to say...?" he trailed off uncertainly and closed his eyes. "My head is killing me."

"I'm sorry, but I'm looking for Captain Jack Harkness," Ianto said. "I apologise if I've, er, disturbed you."

"Captain Jack Harkness? Captain Jack Harkness, Captain Jack Harkness... Interesting. Very interesting."

Getting up, he pushed back his shirt sleeves and grimaced as they slid back down again immediately, covering his hands and going past his finger tips.

"It's all a bit muddled at the moment, you'll have to forgive me. But still... Who are you? How did you get in here? Are you travelling with me?"

"You landed your ship in my garden," Ianto pointed out.

"I did? Really? I'm sure that's not where I wanted to go. Or did I? Anyway, that's easily remedied!"

He started fiddling with the innumerable buttons on the console, dancing around it like a mad and slightly drunk pixie.

"Now, please wait just a moment -" Ianto started to say, but the teen didn't even seem to hear him.

"Screen's down, temporal stabilisers are at half power, blimey, she took a bit of a battering didn't she? Take a bit of time to repair her, maybe a top-up? Then again, you got rather too much energy, didn't you, shouldn't need more for years and years! Nah, spend some time in the vortex, you'll be right as rain..."

"Excuse me -"

"Now shut up just a minute!" Ianto was rudely interrupted, "Haven't got much time, terribly sorry, regeneration was a bit dodgy, don't know how long -" the stranger suddenly fell silent and doubled over in obvious pain. Panting, he set a wheel spinning and the door through which Ianto had entered banged shut; the floor beneath his feet began to shake. Ianto stumbled and would have fallen if the hadn't got hold of one of the vines. As it was, he was still thrown off his feet and hit his head on the railing. He gasped for breath, the pain exploding in his skull, all-encompassing for long seconds. A grinding noise filled the room before fading abruptly; and as his mind cleared he could only hear a soft humming pervading the room.

"Um..." he said carefully, "Excuse me? What – What has just happened? What did you do?"

But the young man was no longer standing at the console. Instead he was lying in a crumpled heap in front of it, a golden glow filling his unconscious form.


	2. Parts 4 to 6

- 4 -

"Shit," Ianto whispered.

Getting to his feet he stumbled over to where the other man lay, his body absolutely still. The golden light was slowly fading away as Ianto kneeled down, putting his hand on the stranger's forehead. The skin was dry and surprisingly cool; he fumbled to feel for a pulse and frowned as he made out a frantic pattern beneath his finger tips. Still, it meant that he was alive, and Ianto managed to discern a gentle rising and falling of his chest, at odds with the quick heartbeat.

"Wake up," Ianto said desperately, "Please, just wake up."

The stranger didn't even so much as twitch, however, and Ianto decided that this whole situation went way over his head. He activated his bluetooth earpiece and tried calling the Hub. All he got in return, however, was a static hum. Ianto thought that maybe the technology in the ship was interfering with his signal reception and he moved across the room towards the door, throwing it open before stumbling back in horror.

Wherever they were at the moment, this was most definitely not his garden anymore.

The doorway revealed emptiness; but it was a terrifying emptiness, filled with streaks of red and blue that made Ianto's eyes hurt to look at it. The box seemed to shield him from it somehow because it was like looking through a very clear window, with no sounds reaching his ears, no gust of wind ruffling his clothes. Where Ianto was standing, all was calm. Right in front of the door, however, hell was unfolding, the streaks of red and blue transforming into brilliant bursts, a thousand tiny stars exploding before being sucked into nothingness.

Ianto slammed the door shut with some difficulty, having to force himself into moving his own limbs. He took the bluetooth piece out of his ears, clenching his fist over it. It was clear that whatever the young man had done to the console had caused the ship to take off and fly away – or whatever it did to move around – and they were probably not on Earth anymore. No wonder he was out of reception range.

It suddenly occurred to Ianto, completely randomly, that he'd be late for work – Owen would not be pleased – and he still had quite a number of reports of Doctor sightings to go through. Then again, the stranger had seemed to recognise Jack's name, even if the subsequent babble had made little to no sense. He could ask him again if – _when –_ he woke up.

Just then a low moan reverberated through the room and the young man's eyes fluttered open. Crossing the room in quick strides Ianto crouched down next to him.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, "Are you all right?"

A groan was the answer and the stranger' dark gaze focused blearily on him. Blinking rapidly, he sat up with Ianto's help and clutched his head.

"I feel awful," he admitted, "Times like these I really wish Aspirin would work for me."

"I'm sure I can get you some if you tell me where you store it...?" Ianto offered.

"D'you want to kill me? My race was – is – allergic to it. Well, not really, 's not my immune system that goes crazy if I took some, more like my brain. It would short-circuit most neurons and then kill me. So, no thanks, I think I'll pass. However, I could really do with a nice cup of tea. I think."

The man stood up and supported himself by leaning against the console, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"But first things first. Now, I know that regeneration can do strange things to my memory but I'm sure I remember everything up to my involuntary corporeal overhaul. You weren't there. Who are you?"

"My name is Ianto Jones," Ianto answered and then went on, "I'm sorry, but are you the Doctor?"

"Exactly! Got it in one!" the stranger – no, the Doctor – beamed. "'S great, isn't it? My reputation precedes me, that's good, very good! Now, Mr Jones, what brings you on board of the TARDIS?"

"TARDIS?"

"Time and relative dimensions in space, my frankly magnificent ship! Travels in time and in space, as the name suggests. Oh, and she's bigger on the inside, but I'm sure you've already noticed that."

"I have," Ianto agreed. "And you landed your ship in my garden. The door was open, so..." he shrugged.

"Ah. Bit strange, that." The Doctor fidgeted for a few seconds, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. "Still, what would life be without a bit of randomness, eh? So, Mr Ianto Jones, what do you say to a nice cup of tea?"

"I – I need to go to work," Ianto replied and wanted to smack himself for that comment as soon as it had left his mouth. Here he was, in the company of the Doctor – Torchwood's primary enemy of a sort, but also the reason Jack had left the lot of them behind without so much as a goodbye note – possibly the only one who could tell him where Jack was at the moment; on board his ship, about which he'd had to listen to months of endless and increasingly wild speculation from Lisa, and he was saying that he needed to go to _work_?

"Work?" the Doctor repeated airily, "Ooooh, but this is a time ship! I can get you there on time, I promise, you can have a cup of tea with me, maybe one little trip as a sort of apology for my dodgy parking? What do you say?"

Ianto hesitated before answering. The Doctor had mentioned 'one little trip', and with the tiredness of a mostly sleepless week still inhabiting his body – the result of another 'little trip' gone somewhat wrong – he was nearly tempted to decline the offer politely and ask to be taken back immediately. But then he thought of his colleagues, irritable and ill-tempered ever since Jack's disappearance. He remembered his lover's grin when he'd heard the TARDIS materialise on the Roald Dahl Plass. The Hub was empty without his ever-constant presence; and then Ianto could almost hear Owen's voice, mocking him about not wanting to open the Rift: _"Okay Ianto, we'll play it your way – safe and boring."_

He'd be the first to admit that yes, most of the time he was just that, safe and boring, so unlike the rest of the team. He didn't have their thirst for adventure or discovery and he lacked the necessary capability to function on adrenaline alone, didn't thrive under that sort of pressure. He was absolutely sure that neither Owen nor Tosh nor Gwen would have stopped to think before saying 'yes'. And as for Jack – well, he didn't even have to speculate what Jack's reply would be because they'd all witnessed it first-hand.

Still – a cup of tea and one trip surely couldn't hurt?

"Yes," Ianto finally answered and smiled. "I'd love to."

"Brilliant!"

The Doctor flashed him a toothy smile. "Come on, then. I need to change out these clothes as well, no? Bit large now. It's a shame, I really liked them actually..."

- 5 -

Ianto was slowly sipping milky, slightly too sweet tea a little while later when the Doctor came staggering into the kitchen he'd left him in and collapsed in a chair. Ianto pushed a full mug across the table, but the Doctor shook his head gloomily.

"I don't think that can help me now," he said.

"Why? Aren't you feeling well?"

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, I fell brilliant! Fantastic, even! It's just this -" he gestured at his own body, now clad in black trousers and a gleamingly white shirt, "I didn't really get a good look at it before and now... Well. I'm a bit young, is all."

Ianto raised an eyebrow, studying the Doctor's face. It was true; he was young. He appeared to be about eighteen years old, if that. No hint of a beard marred his smooth cheeks and chin, and he had a delicate-looking face with high cheek bones, a thin nose and huge eyes.

In short, the Doctor was – well, pretty.

"So how does it work?" Ianto asked, "Can you change your body at will? I take it you don't have control over your appearance?"

The Doctor grimaced and helped himself to the chocolate digestives that Ianto had found in the one of the numerous cupboards. Personally, Ianto though it was a bit early for him to be tucking into chocolate quite yet, but then again these were exceptional circumstances, so he took one for himself as well.

"I'm afraid not. No, I can cheat death – in most cases, anyway – by regenerating. Completely different body and I can't influence it a bit. A dozen different bodies and I've never been ginger, can you imagine? And I've never been this young before. Well, I have, obviously, but that's now, what? more than twelve centuries ago. Bit strange, really, I'm not sure I like it."

"So what caused your regenerating if you don't mind me asking?"

"Ah... well." The Doctor scratched his head. "Combination of bad luck and carelessness I suppose. Got stuck in a particularly temperamental bit of the time vortex. When I tried to fix the TARDIS she didn't appreciate my tinkering. It's all a bit fuzzy but I think I died when 10,000 volts at a low AC frequency passed through me. I have to say, waste of a perfectly good body that was."

"Right."

"And you! Who are you! Human, obviously, early 21st century judging by the suit and the hair? From Wales, am I right?"

"That's correct," Ianto replied, "I live in Cardiff."

"Cardiff! Haven't been there in quite a while actually... Always good for a visit. So, what is your work that's so important you nearly turned down a trip in time and space for it?"

Ianto knew that he couldn't tell the Doctor that he worked for Torchwood – it was absolutely out of the question. The Doctor was aware of their existence, true, but also of their policies, and he'd been there when their folly had unleashed both Cybermen and Daleks into this world. Chances were that he wouldn't take too kindly to one of the employees belonging to an organisation which still considered him as a potential threat and enemy being on board his ship. Lying outright didn't seem right either, though, so Ianto chose to lie by omission, something that worked astoundingly well most of the time, especially when talking to estranged relatives and friends on the phone.

"I work in a tourist office," he said, "Doing some admin on the side. Filing, making coffee, that sort of thing."

Never mind that at this point during a typical phone conversation most of his friends would react with incredulity, exclaiming that he was wasted in a dead-end job and surely that didn't earn him a lot of money? His relatives would make similar noises, tinged with pity and the odd hint of accusation – his parents had paid for a good university education after all and he was throwing his degree away for restocking leaflets and pointing hapless Americans towards Cardiff Castle. But the Doctor didn't know him, after all, and accepted the lie easily.

"Sounds riveting," he said. "Only not really, but you know what I mean."

"What about you?" Ianto asked, "Is this what you do, travel in space and time? Or do you have a home somewhere else?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Not anymore. I'm a Time Lord; the last of the Time Lords. My planet, Gallifrey, was destroyed at the end of the Time War. Since then, and even before that, I've been travelling."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"There is no way you could have known."

The Doctor swallowed down the rest of his biscuit and took another one immediately.

"So you travel alone?"

"Oh no! Well, sometimes. For the last couple of years or so. Most of the time I've got people with me, friends. Companions, if you will."

The Doctor hadn't travelled with anyone for _years_? That made no sense to Ianto, as Jack had joined him in the TARDIS just days ago. He should be here right now, sitting with them in the improbably big kitchen and spinning one of his wild tales. Then again -

"And you can travel anywhere in time?" Ianto persisted.

The Doctor waved a hand and grinned. "Yes, yes, yes! I've already said so, haven't I? Anywhere in time and space, provided I don't cross my own personal time line – well, I could, but generally it's not a good idea. Speaking of which, is there anywhere in particular you fancy going? Backwards, forwards? TARDIS took a bit of a battering so it could take a bit longer than usual but other than that the choice is yours!"

"I hadn't really thought about it," Ianot admitted. "I suppose... Could we go forwards?"

"Your wish is my command!" The Doctor nearly bounced in his seat, draining the last bit of his tea with a loud slurp and crammed another biscuit into his mouth. He sprayed the table with crumbs as he spoke, but didn't even seem to notice. "You finish your tea, I've just got to bring that temporal stabiliser up to full power again before we go anywhere, else we'll just bounce horribly once we materialise and you really don't want that happening! Oh, and maybe take off the tie? At least loosen it up a bit, you look terribly uncomfortable. Can't stand ties, myself. Overexposure maybe?"

The Doctor left Ianto by himself in the kitchen and he drank the rest of his tea slowly, his head spinning. He was certain that Jack wasn't on board the TARDIS, and Ianto had some difficulties in suppressing his crushing disappointment. He couldn't understand why the other man wasn't here. It only made sense if Jack had come and gone in the span of nine days, but that was improbable because the Doctor had said he'd been alone for years. Or he'd known him under a different name entirely – after all, Jack had confessed to stealing the name from the real Captain Jack Harkness, or so Tosh had told them. Maybe he hadn't even been here yet. Maybe this Doctor had never met Captain Jack Harkness? It was entirely possible if he was a time traveller, although the odds of him randomly landing the TARDIS in Ianto's garden had to be pretty slim.

Anyway, fact was that Jack wasn't here, but Ianto was. Ianto Jones, on board of an old-fashioned police box that was bigger on the inside, together with an incredibly old alien in the body of an eighteen-year boy who had no table manners but the whole of time and space at his disposal. It all sounded quite mad, even to his own ears. Not even working for Torchwood could have prepared him for this. Probably nothing could.

Truth to be told, Ianto was still worried about Jack's whereabouts, but he was also worried about Toshiko coming in at eight in the morning only to find her work station a mess from lass night, coffee cups and open files strewn all around it. He hadn't had the energy to clean things up last night and promised himself that he'd do it first thing in the morning. He could also picture Owen's displeasure quite clearly, as well as the verbal flaying he'd receive once he'd get back. Jack had never really seemed to care whether Ianto cleaned up properly or not. Owen, on the other hand, took great pleasure in explicitly reminding Ianto of empty pizza boxes and equipment left lying around ever since Ianto had shot him in the shoulder. He could only hope that the other man would grow bored with this game. It was tiring him out and keeping a polite façade was getting more difficult with each passing day.

He also couldn't help but worry that he'd make a fool of himself in front of the Doctor. Ianto liked his personal dignity intact, thank you very much and unfortunately that was usually the first thing to go when he was thrown into an unusual or stressful situation. The team's trip to the countryside had been more than ample proof of that, and although Ianto doubted that a trip with the Doctor would involve inbred cannibals, the fact remained that this was a long way out of his comfort zone of neatly pressed suits and the cool blue colours of the Hub and its computer interface.

On the other hand, worrying about this now wasn't exactly productive or helpful in calming him down. And anyway, the Doctor had said 'one trip'. Ianto was reasonably sure he could survive one trip – whatever that entailed – without messing up things too badly as long as he kept his composure and didn't give in to his emotions.

Therefore taking his tie off as the Doctor had suggested was unthinkable. Its presence would remind Ianto that he was an employee of Torchwood and wouldn't be intimidated by anyone or anything.

Straightening the object in question until it was arranged to perfection, Ianto went to join the Doctor in the control room.

- 6 -

"So, have you decided where you want to go?" the Doctor asked Ianto as he joined him at the console.

"I'd like to visit another planet," Ianto said. "It may be my only chance to visit a completely foreign world."

"Interesting! I like it." The Doctor pushed the cracked screen aside and poked a slender silver rod at it, its blue tip humming softly. "That's a sonic screwdriver, by the way. More settings than you'd care to count and it's never let me down yet." He waved the silver rod in Ianto's face as if to demonstrate this before concentrating on the console again. "Inhabited or uninhabited?"

"Inhabited, I suppose."

"So, inhabited planet in the future... D'you mind if it's inhabited by humans or do you want lots of aliens at any price? Well, when I say inhabited I mean more like colonised. Because I know just the place, Orion Three, the year 4,500 – it's glorious! They've got a lovely ten-year exhibition in their capital to celebrate a thousand years of space colonisation. What d'you say?"

Ianto's mind had boggled at the 'a thousand years of space colonisation' bit but he nodded. "That sounds fine to me."

"Fine!" the Doctor exclaimed and, finished with jabbing his sonic screwdriver at random bits of the console, started pressing buttons and operating the bicycle pump,. "Fine, he says! This isn't fine, Mr Ianto Jones, it's brilliant! Awe-inspiring! I'd go so far to say that it's fantastic!"


	3. Parts 7 and 8

- 7 -

"So this is Orion Three," Ianto said slowly, carefully stepping out of the TARDIS.

"Yep!" the Doctor answered cheerfully, bounding out of his ship and pulling the door shut with a loud bang.

"Orion Three, only planet supporting human life within a thousand light-year radius, which really isn't all that much if you think about it. Colonised five hundred years ago. The latest civil war ended a year ago – actually, hang on, it ended a year before the exhibition started. Little cough-up with the temporal stabilisers, we've arrived more in the middle and missed the opening ceremony. Sorry."

"That's quite all right," Ianto said distractedly while trying to keep himself from gaping. He was standing on another world, thousands of light-years away from Earth, 2,500 years in the future. To say that he was mildly impressed was an understatement.

The Doctor had parked the TARDIS at the edge of a ledge. A couple of feet from where Ianto was standing the ground dropped away abruptly, in a plunge that was several hundred feet deep. A wide plain stretched out before him at the bottom and into the horizon. There was an emerald sea of grass that was only disturbed by the large semi-translucent dome built on it some miles away from where they were now.

Ianto turned around to face a grinning Doctor who raised an eyebrow as if daring him to say something. He looked at the dome again and then lifted his eyes up to the sky. It was a light, almost white-ish blue in colour, with no clouds or birds in sight. The sun – or was that _a_ sun now? - was high in the sky, startling him in its familiarity. He inhaled deeply.

"It smells the same," he said finally. "I feel the same."

"Ah, but that's because they've changed the atmosphere! Orion Three is rather Earth-like, all things considered, what with the same distance to its sun, size, composition... Quite astounding, really. Nevertheless the oxygen levels were a bit too low, nothing dangerous, you just got out of breath rather quickly. They changed them a few hundred years ago, brought them up to Earth standards."

The Doctor spread out his hands, spinning round and laughing, looking like an ordinary, happy teenager just finished with his A levels. "And voilà! You've got yourself a new Earth, well, sort of. Are you ready to go? We've got to get to that dome, the exhibition's there."

"I thought you said it's in the capital?" Ianto asked, following the Doctor. They walked away from the ledge and towards a low-rise building that seemed to be made out of blue, shimmering glass. The Doctor seemed to have materialised the TARDIS in a sort of car park because they were surrounded by space ships that reminded Ianto of lazy afternoons spent watching _Star Trek_ and of sneaking forbidden peeks at some of the alien ships Torchwood had obtained over the years.

"This _is_ the capital! We're in it, right now. Well, above it. One of the visitors' car parks. Why they're still calling it car park I've never understood but there you go. The city council takes a bit of a dim view to parking your ship in random places. I got myself arrested doing it last time. Thought you wouldn't fancy a prison cell for your first contact with an alien world?"

"Thank you for your consideration."

They'd arrived at the building and he was looking for an entrance when the Doctor winked at him, stepped through the wall and simply disappeared inside. Ianto frowned and actually took a step back before stretching out his fingers and gingerly nudging the blue material. It was cool and felt entirely dry although it left behind a mild, prickling sensation that vanished quickly as Ianto snatched back his hand.

"You coming?" The Doctor had stuck his head through the wall. "It's just a low energy photon barrier, nothing to be afraid of."

Ianto was sharply reminded of the time Torchwood had received three guests from the past and he'd taken them shopping. He'd been surprised despite himself at their puzzlement over the most mundane things in life, like the automatic doors at the supermarket. Back then he'd taken care of them; it had been his world and his time and he'd belonged there. Now Ianto's role had changed; he was the one flinching back from something as ordinary as a door.

"Yes," Ianto replied and stepped through the wall.

He found himself in a light and airy room containing nothing but several quadratic platforms on the ground, their gleaming white colour starkly in contrast to the green grass growing around them. The Doctor stepped onto one and held out his hand to Ianto, waggling his fingers invitingly. Ianto joined him on the platform, deliberately ignoring the alien's outstretched hand.

"I've told you that there was a civil war," the Doctor began cheerfully, "Well, the original capital was destroyed and they've rebuilt it underground. Neo Dorado in all its former glory except sort of upside down."

"Descending," a cool, androgynous voice came from nowhere, "Check-up begins in three, two, one -"

A buzzing sound filled Ianto's ears at the same time as the air was suddenly pregnant with the smell of almonds. He sneezed as his eyes started to water.

"What is this?" he gasped.

"Ah, this is like your airport security! I'm telling you, they've just had a war, they're not about to let anybody enter the city who could jeopardise their peace. They're just checking whether you're a fully organic life form, whether you've got any weapons on you, that sort of thing."

The lift seemed to go down for quite a long time, encased in a tunnel that was illuminated by soft, golden light. It finally stopped moving and the same voice as before announced, "Destination: Hub node, hundred, zero, zero. Welcome to New Dorado."

"And now..."

The Doctor stepped off, out into a room that was filled with many more similar platforms, in three different colours, white, blue and yellow. The room was large and full of people, chatting to each other noisily and laughing. They all seemed to appear out of nowhere, stepping off one tile and on to another, only to disappear again. Most of them looked human enough to Ianto's eyes. Their hair looked a bit bizarre, of course, and the clothes were... interesting, but there were none of the purple-skinned, tentacled aliens – or, God forbid, Weevils – that he'd been expecting.

"We need a blue one!" the Doctor called out and took off in long strides. Ianto followed him at a more sedate pace, drinking in his surroundings. He knew that he was probably gaping at the futuristic equivalent of a hotel lobby with a row of lifts, but that fact didn't hamper his enjoyment in the slightest. The walls here were made out of the same blue material as the building on the planet's surface. Ianto wondered how it worked. The Doctor had said something about the walls being a low energy photon barrier, but what exactly did that mean? The walls couldn't be made out of light; they were blue in colour, after all, and blue light was highly energetic, contrary to the name of these walls. It would be harmful to step through, wouldn't it?

"Doctor?" Ianto asked, only now realising that the alien had disappeared off somewhere, leaving him behind on his own. He turned around, looking for the slender form of the Time Lord and mild panic had just begun to creep up his spine when the Doctor unexpectedly grabbed his hand and grinned at him. Ianto was so startled and relieved that he forgot to wriggle free of the unexpected touch and was dragged across the room with the Doctor chatting away excitedly. "I've found us a direct lift, white and blue in one, it's such a pain to have to change lines so often, don't you think? The exhibition is in the Dome itself..."

Ianto was whisked on to another platform and they were off again. Although there were no visible doors, bright walls made of light surrounded them. Apart from that, nothing indicated that they were in a lift at all. There was none of that slight feeling of displacement, the press or release of gravity.

"Destination Dorado Dome, fifty, twenty-five, one hundred. Enjoy the Space Colonisation Exhibition, open 24/7 and in relative time."

"Here we go! I haven't been to this one yet, went to the one they had to celebrate 2,000 years – that was a bit of a wild party, I still can't remember all of it..."

Ianto let the Doctor's babbling wash over him and waited patiently as they queued to step through a high arch that admitted them to the exhibition proper. The dome in which they were now standing was huge and transparent except for a glittering effect where the sunlight hit it at a certain angle. The illusion of being out in the open was almost perfect, except that there was no wind, only the cool current of air conditioning. There were buildings some distance away, some of them nearly skyscrapers, partly built out of the blue material he'd seen before but some of them also constructed with bricks and glass and metal. There were stalls and stands lining the pathways leading to the centre of the dome, and everything was filled with light and people.

"Like it?" the Doctor whispered in Ianto's ear. The Time Lord was standing on his tiptoes and squeezed Ianto's hand. Ianto automatically stepped back and broke the contact between them, but he couldn't help nodding in affirmation.

"It's wonderful," he said honestly.

"Excellent! Shall we go and have a closer look?"

The following hour passed like in a dream for Ianto. They Doctor led him on one of the pathways leading to the centre of the dome in a straight, seemingly endless line and they walked along it, frequently pausing so Ianto could admire whatever was on display at the stalls. There was everything he'd imagined there to be at a futuristic space exhibition and a fair few things that he wouldn't have thought of in his wildest dreams. There were stalls displaying the history of space travel and human space colonisation, going right back to a blurry hologram of Neil Armstrong setting foot on the Moon; interactive simulations of the first space travel beyond the solar system; various advertisements offering historic (Apollo 13) and contemporary (recently acquired prototype of a Chula warship) space ships and nearly seducing Ianto into a test drive before the Doctor quickly dragged him away. There were the inevitable food stalls offering every delicacy under this sun and quite a few others and there was a low-rise, open-walled building crammed full of people swaying gently from side to side.

"It's religion," the Doctor explained at Ianto's questioning look. "These lovely people believe that God didn't actually create the Earth in six days, but Orion Three, and that when he chucked Adam and Eve out of paradise he teleported them to Earth. They're asking for forgiveness for invading paradise and they're also petitioning to the City Council to rename the whole planet, call it Eden."

"Right," Ianto said skeptically.

"Really, you should enjoy the sight while it lasts! Public displays of religion will be banned in ten years' time, right after the Fourth Coming of the Prophet Pastafarian, also known as the Flying Spaghetti Monster, turned out to be a hoax."

"You expect me to believe you?" Ianto asked and the Doctor laughed.

"We can go there and you can find out for yourself if you like!"

"Maybe," he agreed and temporarily forgot that this trip was supposed to be a one-off, the Doctor's apology for dragging Ianto away from Cardiff and into time and space in the first place.

The closer they got to the centre the more impressive the buildings around them became. The stalls and pavilions gave way first to low-rise buildings and tent-like constructions which in turn where surpassed by manor houses and finally skyscrapers. The centre of the dome was left free: It was a large plaza with a column right in its middle that went up all the way to the top of the dome. The column was made out of a silvery metal and had water running down it. It reminded Ianto of the water tower on the Roald Dahl Plass that led all they way down into the Hub.

"This is it! Around you are exhibitions and offices by the people who influenced space travel and space colonisation the most, though you wouldn't know any of them of course – the New Republic of America, Sadic Ltd., UNOSA, Torchwood..."

Ianto's head snapped around abruptly and he stared at the Doctor.

"Torchwood?" he asked hoarsely.

"That's right," the Doctor replied, oblivious to his companion's shock. "Founded in 1879 and still going! They're rather secretive in your time, though there was that whole Cybermen/Dalek debacle that nearly brought them to public attention. Fools, the lot of them. They've learned since then."

"Quite," Ianto choked, wondering whether now would be a good time to mention that he actually worked for Torchwood. However, before he had the chance to explain the Doctor was heading off for the largest and highest skyscraper, giving Ianto no choice but to follow him.

Ianto couldn't suppress the shudder sweeping through him as he stepped through the wall and into a huge lobby. This was Torchwood, the organisation he'd worked for ever since leaving university. They were based in _Cardiff_, for heaven's sake. Ianto couldn't even begin to understand how not only had they apparently managed not to blow themselves up somewhere down the line but flourished to the point where Torchwood still existed 2,500 years after the daily madness that constituted life in the Hub. 2,500 years ago – from his point of view – humanity had barely started to learn the most basic of things. No electricity, only rudimentary mathematics, no science to speak of. Most people hadn't even know that the Earth wasn't flat. And yet a single organisation was supposed to have survived for that long, spreading out from Earth and into the galaxy? Maybe Jack had got it right after all, with his repeated _"The 21__st__ century is when it all changes,"_ that had always sounded like a mocking threat to Ianto's ears.

"It's beautiful," he breathed. The lobby was filled with light streaming in from all directions. The furniture – a huge welcome desk, chairs in all sorts of sizes, desks – was white. The room didn't have a ceiling; all the floors had been built in a ring-shaped form, leaving ample free space in the middle. The absence of colour should have been cold and clinical, and it all looked very professional, that was true. But this building was pulsating with warmth. It was like feeling the early morning sun on a very clear day as he stood there, blinking.

Ianto suddenly became aware that a young woman had come to stand in front of him. She was dressed entirely in flowing, vibrant blue robes that left her arms bare. Her skin was a bit lighter than Lisa's had been, making a startling contrast to her cool, grey eyes. She smiled at him and the Doctor.

"Welcome to Torchwood!" she said warmly but in an entirely professional tone before her gaze slid appreciatively over the suit Ianto was wearing. She giggled. "And I have to say, you've certainly dressed the part! I haven't ever seen anybody else but the Captain wear that sort of outfit..."

_The Captain?_

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "I aim to please," he replied and wondered whether Torchwood had maybe started passing on Jack's title after his departure – although the thought of having to call Owen 'Captain Harper' was quite a galling one, seeing as Ianto hadn't even managed the polite 'Sir' yet.

The woman giggled again and he was just beginning to feel uncomfortable when she touched her ear with her hand as if listening to something via earpiece. She nodded and then turned her attention back to them.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Normally I'd offer to show you around the place, the archives and main exhibition on the top floor and such, but I've just been told that it's all going to be closed for the foreseeable future. I'm afraid you'll have to come back some later time."

Ianto felt a stab of disappointment at that announcement. How could he not? This was a chance to glimpse the future, not as some abstract thing consisting of technology and slightly strange fashion, but in connection to his own life. He was certain that there would be little to no records of him – random archivists seldom made their names in history after all. Nevertheless it would have been nice to see where Torchwood would go, how their team had managed to survive and prosper.

He was careful not to let his curiosity show, however. It wouldn't do to rouse the Doctor's suspicions and Ianto wasn't sure how he'd react to the news that one of Ianto's job requirements was to detain him on sight using force if necessary.

"Oh, that's a shame," the Doctor said, "But I suppose there's nothing you can do about it, eh? Maybe some other time."

"Thank you for your understanding. You're very welcome to have a look round this level though. Have a nice day!"

She smiled at them one last time, sketched a short bow and then disappeared through the wall to their right. The Doctor jiggled his hands in his trouser pockets and pouted. "Sorry about that. The history of Torchwood is really quite interesting! Did you know, at one point I was their sworn enemy, and all because Queen Victoria didn't appreciate my somewhat unorthodox approach to saving her life!"

"What happened? Ianto asked. The records about that time period were sketchy at best and he was curious to hear the Doctor's side of the story.

"Ah. Well, she didn't like Rose's unconventional clothing, for one. Rose used to travel with me, such a long time ago. Before Martha even."

The Doctor frowned. "Now Martha Jones, I haven't seen her in quite a while! You know what, we could drop in for a visit. Last time she saw me I looked about thirty years older – I wonder if she'll like my new face?"

He wandered out of the building without wasting a second glance at its impressive interior and Ianto had no choice but to follow suit, feeling strangely like he'd just been robbed of a Christmas present.

- 8 -

"So, Martha," Ianto said when they were back in the TARDIS a short while later, "Who is she?"

He remembered watching her run on the news the night before, and a picture of her being broadcast all over Britain because she allegedly was a terrorist. She'd looked young in that image, and full of life, someone that Jack would have been drawn to immediately, someone that Lisa would have liked.

"She's lovely!" the Doctor replied brightly, pulling a lever on the console and making a face at the still broken screen, "Human, from London. 21st century. She saved the world at one point. She saved everybody, though of course you wouldn't remember that. Left me after that, finished her degree – she's a doctor – got married. Had kids."

He looked strangely wistful before dropping on to the jump seat and putting his feet up on the console. "I haven't seen her in decades. Well, it won't be that long for her, obviously, I was thinking 2040? Nice year."

"What about me? You said one trip. I've got to go to work."

"Mr Ianto Jones, don't be so dull! Besides, it's only one trip, you can count this as a sort of pit stop if you like. Unless you really want to go home?"

Ianto noticed that the Doctor was carefully avoiding looking at him. His question had sounded casual, but something in his seemingly relaxed posture told him that it was anything but.

"Well," he said after a moment's contemplation, "I don't suppose it matters. Time machine and all that."

"Exactly!" The Doctor's brilliant grin told Ianto that this had been the right answer and he sat down next to him on the jump seat, loosening his tie as he did so.


	4. Parts 9 and 10

- 9 -

Both Ianto and the Doctor were standing in front of a large terraced house a little while later, with Ianto curiously scanning the area around him and the Doctor nervously wiping his hands on his trousers. He fidgeted, sighed audibly and then pressed the doorbell.

"Nervous about how she'll like the new face?" Ianto asked drily.

"Of course not!" the Doctor retorted, sounding remarkably like a sulking teenager. "Only it's been quite a while, as I said. Last time I took her on a short trip I nearly forgot her husband in ancient Greece, stranded at a slave market. She wasn't best pleased."

"I wonder why," Ianto said. He could hear footsteps approaching inside and the door was opened a moment later by a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman whose questioning smile froze as she saw the two of them. She'd aged, that much was certain, but Ianto easily recognised her as Martha Jones, the young woman who used to be the Doctor's companion.

"Oh my – my God!" she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, "Ianto, what are you doing here?"

"You know each other?" the Doctor asked.

Ianto shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, no."

"Ianto, don't be silly, of course – hang on," Martha said, turning to the Doctor, "Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor. Change of appearance again. Sorry."

"Doctor!"

The woman's voice betrayed surprise but also obvious pleasure and she stepped forward to embrace the Doctor in a warm hug. She laughed loudly and nearly swirled the alien around in her arms. Whatever the Doctor had done – or nearly done – to her husband didn't seem to have had a negative effect on their relationship.

"It's been too long!" she said. She was grasping the Doctor's hands and he seemed more than happy to let her.

"Come in, both of you! Blimey, Ianto, you gave me quite a scare, you're not supposed to be anywhere near here..."

She led them into a large living room and made them sit down on the sofa. The room was comfortable, with enough clutter – empty mugs, books, photographs and what looked disturbingly like a real human skull – to make it cosy but not too much enough to make Ianto itch with the desire to tidy up. A piano was standing next to a large television screen, and a set of French doors was open, revealing the garden behind.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said, "But I've never seen you before in my life. I would remember if I had."

Martha sat down opposite them, only to get up again immediately and start pacing. "But you're Ianto, Ianto Jones! You work for Torchwood -"

"Torchwood?" the Doctor interrupted sharply, "You never told me that!"

"I've only known you for five hours!"

"But – but we actually went into Torchwood Tower and you never said a word! And hang on, didn't you ask me about Jack...?"

"Jack knows about this?" Martha asked.

"Jack's gone. We don't know where he is."

"But I talked to him just yesterday -"

"Stop," the Doctor said firmly, "I think what we have here is a failure to communicate."

"Do we ever," Martha muttered. "It's always the same with you, Doctor. This was supposed to be a quiet weekend, what with Tom bringing the kids to uni. Then you show up and chaos ensues. Anyone for a cup of tea?"

"Yes, please," Ianto answered.

"Oh, yes – hang on." The Doctor frowned and tapped his fingers against his lips. "Tea... tea... Actually, I don't suppose I could get a cup of hot chocolate instead? Somehow I get the feeling that I won't be drinking tea for a while."

"One cup of tea, one hot chocolate, coming right up," Martha replied and disappeared through another door. As soon as she had gone the Doctor turned to Ianto.

"You work for Torchwood."

"I do, yes."

"And that's how you know Jack."

"Captain Jack Harkness is – was – my boss."

"Was?"

"He disappeared. We saw him running across the Roald Dahl Plass and hang on to the TARDIS. He's been gone ever since then."

"I remember," the Doctor said pensively. "For me that was two lifetimes ago. I was travelling with Martha and Jack came to join us. He told me he was working for Torchwood. Yes."

"And he didn't mention -?" Ianto interrupted himself.

Of course Jack hadn't mentioned him or the team to the Doctor. Why should he have?

In retrospect it became clear to Ianto that Jack had been waiting for the Doctor. His silences, his flippant comments when asked about his past, the remarks about waiting for the 'right kind of doctor' – that all made sense to him now. Jack was immortal; he couldn't die and even if only half of his stories were true then he'd travelled further than any of them had or ever would. Why would a man like him choose to live in a damp underground office in Cardiff, trying to head an organisation that had basically been destroyed when Torchwood Tower had fallen? No, the sole reason Jack had put up with them, their disobedience and betrayal, was that he'd had to have known that the Doctor would show up eventually. As soon as he'd done so Jack had left without a backwards glance.

The Doctor didn't answer; he didn't need to answer, really.

"Where is he now?"

"Ianto -"

"Where is he?" Ianto insisted.

"I don't know. I honestly don't. It's been years since I've seen him, he somehow manages to find me every time he grows bored and then wanders off again."

"So he travelled with you. And then? What then?"

"I'm not sure I can tell you, it could mess up the time lines something awful -"

"Doctor. Please."

The Doctor was saved from having to answer by Martha re-entering the room, carrying a full tray. She handed them their mugs and then sat down.

"I've figured it out," she said brightly. "You're Ianto from the past, not my Ianto. Your face is... well, and your clothing's all wrong."

"How do you know me?"

"I worked for Torchwood," Martha replied and the Doctor promptly choked on his hot chocolate and started coughing. The amused gleam in her eyes told Ianto that Martha was enjoying seeing him splutter.

"You never told me that!" he wheezed, "Jack never told me that!"

"You never asked," she pointed out. "It was only for a year or so, before I got married. Nowadays I freelance for them."

"So we were... will be colleagues. For me it's the year 2008. If you thought I was the Ianto from your present why haven't I aged?"

"Well..."

Martha seemed to be stumped and took a sip from her cup, obviously stalling for time. "You moisturise?" she finally offered.

"Stop," the Doctor said firmly. "Stop, stop, stop. This – we – could be damaging Ianto's time line right now and trust me, you don't want that to happen. Martha, kitchen. We need to talk."

The woman opened her mouth as if to protest against being ordered around in her own home by someone who looked young enough to be her son, but something in the Doctor's posture must have told her that now was not the time for squabbling. She followed him out of the room, but not before hastily grabbing some of the pictures standing on the mantelpiece and piano and taking them with her. She smiled at Ianto, a bit apologetically, and he nodded at her to make sure that he understood.

Well, all in all things could be worse right now.

The Doctor hadn't reacted as badly as he'd feared to finding out the nature of Ianto's work. At least he hadn't zapped him with his sonic screwdriver yet. It suddenly occurred to Ianto that Torchwood had always considered the Time Lord to be their enemy, ever since their foundation – but what if the Doctor didn't think of them as _his_ enemy? He was twelve hundred years old; he'd beaten the Daleks and Cybermen when Torchwood One had gone up in flames and he could travel anywhere in time and space.

Seen from that angle, an Earth-bound organisation from the 21st century was hardly a threat to him, let alone its lone archivist and chief recorder.

And to be honest, Ianto had never really cared about that part of Torchwood's mission statement. Now that he'd actually met the Doctor it appeared simply ludicrous to him. He couldn't claim to knowing the Time Lord well, if at all, but there was something about him that drew Ianto to him. Above all things he seemed to be kind, if slightly eccentric, and he exuded an exuberance and enthusiasm that had been missing from Ianto's life ever since Lisa had gone. Working for Torchwood Three was not a cheerful affair and Jack's attempts at levity had always felt forced, his banter usually hiding something much more serious.

A soft beeping sound interrupted Ianto's musings and he looked around for its source, spotting a tiny black earpiece lying on the table next to the tray. Apparently they'd taken bluetooth one step further and just got rid of the actual mobiles entirely. A blue light was blinking in time with the beeping and he was just thinking of calling out to Martha when there was another beep and Gwen's voice rang through the room, not especially loud but crystal clear as if she were standing right next to him.

"Hi Martha, I don't want to disturb you during your weekend off, I was just calling to check whether we're still on for next week? I'm dying to get out of Cardiff for a while and Ianto's due to come back in two days so I can have some time off. Anyway, say hi to Tom for me, all right? See you later!"

There was a soft click and then silence. Ianto sat on the couch, absolutely still and hardly daring to breathe. This had been Gwen.

_Gwen._

Gwen, thirty-two years from the future and still working for Torchwood Three, friends with the Doctor's former companion, the one she'd barely noticed when they'd watched the news coverage on Tosh's computer just yesterday. And she'd mentioned him, coming back form somewhere. Christ, he would be nearly sixty in this time and he was still stuck in the Hub? At least it meant that both Gwen and him would survive until now without getting Retconned or mauled by Weevils. Considering the average life span of a Torchwood field agent that was quite a feat.

"Ianto?"

"Yes?"

Martha sat down next to him. The Doctor had come back as well and leaned against the piano, crossing his arms and slouching.

"I'm sorry for causing some confusion. I can't really explain it, but when I'm coming to work for Torchwood it would be good if you didn't mention that you've met me in the future."

"Because you don't remember me mentioning it?"

"Exactly."

"What about Jack? I'm not going to let it go, you know," Ianto said as the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Gwen has been worrying herself sick."

"And you haven't?"

"It's my job to look after the well-being of the team."

Of course he'd been worried. His grief at Jack's apparent death had surprised him. The intensity of it had nearly shred his composure to pieces and the sense of loss he'd experienced had scared him. And then the older man had come back and gone again before Ianto had a chance to process any of it. Going to the Himalayas had helped in a way because it had removed him from his daily life, taken him out of his comfort zone and allowed – forced him, even – to push everything regarding Jack Harkness to the back of his mind.

However, he couldn't deny that he missed Jack even though he would never admit to that in front of two virtual strangers.

"Jack comes back, Ianto," Martha said and shushed the Doctor who had made an angry noise at her statement.

"Oh, you know it's no use keeping it from him," she said, "What harm can it do?"

"When?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she answered, "Sorry. It's no good to know too much about your personal future, or at least that's what the Doctor tells me."

"And I'm right! Time Lord, remember?"

"How could I ever forget," Martha said dryly. "So, are you two staying for lunch?"

"Well. I think it would be best if we were off, actually," the Doctor said, "Busy schedule, you understand. Places to go, things to see..."

"One of these days you're going to learn how to do a bit of domestic," the older woman said gently before shaking her head. "Oh, who am I kidding. Still, feel free to drop in whenever you like – and if that doesn't happen within the next five years I'll have to call you, you know."

"Frightening prospect, that," the Doctor muttered and Martha laughed. "I remember what happened the last time you did that."

"I had no choice!"

"And I couldn't get the chocolate out of my console for decades!" the Doctor shot back. "Your sprogs are never entering my ship again. That was my share of domesticity, enough to last me for quite a few centuries."

Ianto watched the two of them interact with each other, their easy camaraderie and understanding and all of a sudden he felt unbearably lonely. He couldn't think of anyone he'd want to drop in randomly and unannounced, just to say hello, and he was certain that there was no-one who'd welcome him with open arms like Martha had done with the Doctor.

"Right, time to go," the Doctor said briskly. Martha nodded and led them do the door.

"Shall I tell Tom you sent your regards?" she asked and the Doctor snorted.

"Maybe not, then."

"Domestics," the Doctor reminded her and embraced his former companion.

"Take care?"

"Always."

Martha reached up to ruffle the Doctor's hair and the Time Lord squeaked indignantly. She turned towards Ianto and he took a cautious step backwards, afraid she'd do the same to him. The older woman simply grinned and held out her hand.

"I wouldn't dream of ruining your dignity. Besides, you're too tall."

"Thank you."

"See you soon!" Martha called after them as they entered the TARDIS. Ianto wondered how soon exactly, for him and for her. He imagined her ringing Gwen back, and himself returning from wherever he was at this moment in time. A shiver passed down his spine and he closed the TARDIS door firmly behind him.

- 10 -

"So," the Doctor said carefully.

"... Interesting," Ianto offered after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Quite."

Slowly wandering round the console, the Doctor traced the individual buttons and knobs but made no move to dematerialise the TARDIS.

"Mr Ianto Jones," the Time Lord resumed, "And you told me you work in a tourist office!"

"That was the truth," Ianto said, "I do."

"Anyway, is that what you want to go back to? Because you could, I don't know... Come with me. For a bit."

"Come with you." Ianto pondered that statement. "Where?"

"Anywhere! Any place, any time... The universe is your oyster."

Ianto hesitated. This was mad. He knew he should decline and ask to be taken back. He had a job, after all. On the other hand that was actually the only reason for him to say no – work. No family, no friends, no lover to miss or need him, nothing but a messy Hub with messed up people and a pterodactyl inside. And the team would be fine – Martha had assured him that Jack would be coming back sooner or later and Ianto believed her.

Really, he was free to do as he wished, and the prospect of the unknown was beckoning and frightening him at the same time.

"I suppose," he said carefully, "I could. Yes."

"You'll love it, I promise! Most people do, except for the ones who get eaten."

Ianto grimaced, a brief image of a meat cleaver being pressed against his neck flashing before his eyes. But then the Doctor activated the controls, the now-familiar grinding noise filled the room and they were off to God-knew-where, away from Torchwood, away from Earth and everything he'd ever known.

Ianto realised that the tingling in his stomach was his long-dormant sense of adventure and smiled quietly to himself.


	5. Parts 11 to 15

- 11 -

Postcard #1

From: Ianto Jones

To: Lisa Hallett

Barcelona, 23rd of March 2008

Lisa,

Greetings from Barcelona! The planet, not the city.

See, the funny thing with time travel is that I could actually send this card to you, nearly nine months after you've died in my personal time line and roughly three thousand years after your birth. You would receive it. But I won't, mainly because the Doctor won't let me – Anyway, I think you'd like it here. It would appeal to your sense of humour, this planet would. I mean, the picture on this card explains it all, doesn't it?

The real question is, do I keep this postcard after I've sobered up from whatever it is that I was served at that pub or do I throw it away like it would be the sensible thing to do?

I miss you.

Love,

Ianto

- 12 -

Postcard # 2

From: Ianto Jones

To: Dr Owen Harper

Raxacoricofallapatorius, 15th of April 2008

Owen,

there are green, body-snatching aliens here who, the Doctor assures me, fart when they inhabit humans' bodies.

You wouldn't be willing to volunteer as a host, would you?

Greetings,

Ianto

- 13 -

"Why is it," Ianto said over breakfast one day, some two months after he'd started travelling with the Doctor, "that some people – or aliens I suppose – talk in English to me, and some in Welsh? It's obviously the TARDIS translating for me, but does she choose randomly or is there an underlying process or logic to it?"

The Doctor looked up from the scrambled eggs he'd been inhaling. In the beginning he'd pretended to only keep Ianto company during meal times, sniffing that he didn't need as much food as mere humans did. Since then he'd found out that his new body came with all the appetites of an ordinary teenager – and that included vast quantities of food. Sometimes Ianto had the impression that their exploration of the universe was more a culinary adventure than anything else.

"What?" the Doctor asked, his mouth full. He swallowed, took another bite off his toast and downed half a cup of coffee in one go. Ianto sighed. No amount of glaring and demonstrative swiping at the assorted crumbs on the table would ever teach the Time Lord how to eat like a civilised person. "You hear people speaking to you in Welsh?"

"Well, not you," Ianto said, "But that Roman soldier we... erm... rescued last week? He spoke Welsh. As did the Gelth the week before. Not to mention the Tree Tribe."

He'd barely been able to suppress a wince when the Crown Representative of Trees – a lovely oak about fifteen feet tall and nearly as wide – had spoken to him in exactly the same patronising tone as Mrs Evans from the village shop of his childhood. He felt like he'd been nicking sweets from the Tree himself, never mind that he'd never actually done that.

"Interesting. Tell me, Ianto, what's your first language?"

"My parents spoke English to me. But I spent a lot of time with my grandparents and they insisted on speaking Welsh."

"You're bilingual?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Hm."

The Doctor started buttering another slice of toast and looked longingly at the bacon that was left on Ianto's plate. Ianto gave in gracefully and pushed the plate across the table.

"Are you sure?"

"Watching you eat is doing a pretty good job at stifling any kind of hunger I might have felt," Ianto said dryly.

"Your loss. Thank you. Anyway, you're right, the TARDIS translates most alien languages for you. Telepathic circuits, it's gorgeous technology! But if you're bilingual she might get a tad confused sometimes and it probably depends on the state of mind you're in."

So the Tree had indeed reminded him of Mrs Evans – fair enough. But the Roman soldier...?

"Do you want me to change it?" the Doctor asked Ianto, "I can set it to one language only."

"No, that's fine. It just surprised me in the beginning."

He hadn't spoken Welsh for years before this; ever since moving out of the village he'd grown up in and going off to university, he'd mostly stuck to English. He'd even tried to get rid of his accent because of the teasing from his London colleagues, but that had been a singularly unsuccessful endeavour and he'd given up after a short time. But now Ianto found himself rather amused by aliens hundreds of years and billions of miles away from home nattering away in his late grandparents' language.

"Well then."

Pushing the empty plates away from him, the Doctor grabbed the carton of orange juice Ianto had just opened that morning and started drinking straight out of it. He grinned at his companion's noise of disgust.

"I was thinking... How would you like a visit to Heyl? Inhabited by the Thain, lovely people, a cross between humans and the natives there, also called Heyl. The year 100,000. The Princess' coronation – dancing in the streets, proclamation of everlasting peace, that sort of thing. Oh, and there's a banquet. Food for everyone!"

"Why am I not surprised at the banquet aspect of the plan?"

"If you want to go somewhere else..."

"No, no. I think I can survive a day or two of merriment and revelry."

"Barely."

The Doctor nodded gravely at him before his face broke out into a grin, bits of the herbs Ianto had used for the scrambled eggs sticking between his otherwise perfectly white teeth.

- 14 -

The TARDIS materialised with a groan. Before the Doctor had the chance to check whether they'd ended up in the right place and time however, the grinding noise of take-off filled the console room again and the whole ship shuddered. Ianto grabbed on to the jump seat and waited until the room around him had stopped moving.

"What happened?"

The Doctor got out his sonic screwdriver, pointed it at the console and then studied the readings on the screen with a frown on his face.

"We've shifted sideways," he said softly, "Forwards in time. I landed 100,000 just in time for the Princess' coronation but we're now in the year 100,100. Must be those temporal stabilisers, I never did get them fixed properly... Oh well. Rainbow-Anniversary it is, then. In short, the Princess has been reigning for a hundred years. There's a feast, bit of celebration, dancing in the streets..."

"... and a banquet?"

"I certainly hope so!"

The Doctor had parked the TARDIS in a small alleyway that quickly led to what seemed to be the main road, a broad, busy street full of the native aliens. And surely that was an oxymoron, Ianto reflected. In this context and setting it was him who was the alien. This was the home of the Thain and he was the visitor from outer space.

The Thain resembled humans quite a lot. They were a bipedal species, two arms, one head. They were, however, also rather shorter than the average human, with slightly beige skin, prominent teeth typical of predators and ridges on their foreheads. Ianto thought that they seemed familiar to him, but the Doctor had already skipped off as usual and Ianto blamed the feeling on reading through too many files and records in the Archives on slow days.

The Doctor and Ianto were easily the tallest people in the crowd, and their clothing – jeans and a tee shirt for Ianto and a sort of white dress the Doctor swore was the latest fashion on Earth in the 74th century – made them stand out even more. Most of the people around them were wearing one-piece overalls made of a dully shining material in all sorts of different colours. Still, their appearance drew little attention. The Thain were obviously used to alien visitors.

Even if they hadn't been, Ianto doubted that they would have cared because the Doctor had not been joking when he'd talked about there being a feast. Most, if not all people around them were celebrating: laughing, shouting, dancing to a throbbing music that came from everywhere and resonated in Ianto's chest. Also, everyone seemed to be quite solidly drunk if the level of noise and the number of empty bottles and cups was anything to go by.

"D'you like it?"

The Doctor had to shout to make himself heard. Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Quite a boisterous people, the Thain."

"Not usually," the Time Lord said, "They're more known for being diligent, hard-working, and so on. But they do adore their Princess."

"She rules this planet?"

"No!" the Doctor laughed, "Rule Heyl! No, no, no. They've got city councils to do that for them, at least the last time I checked. No, the Princess represents Heyl and the whole solar system to the Intergalactic Committee. She was elected a hundred years ago and has never been out of office since. They're fantastically long-lived, not like you lot! They've got that from the Heyl."

The Doctor and Ianto wandered down the street towards a large, pyramid-shaped building that was illuminated in all colours of the rainbow, with Ianto taking care not to get any drinks spilled on him. The air around them was cool and very dry, and a thousand new scents filled Ianto's nose. He loved this part of travelling – stepping on to alien worlds and simply opening his senses, drinking it all in. This was so different from his normal life, where it was all about repeating the same things and mundane little tasks over and over again. No, the Doctor had forced Ianto to open his eyes and see, every new experience enriching his catalogue of mental snapshots. He filed away every new colour, every new smell and every new taste meticulously, to be remembered when he'd eventually go back to the cool blues and recycled, damp air of Torchwood.

"The banquet's going to be in there." The Doctor pointed towards the pyramid, "And with the help of a bit of psychic paper securing top seats at the High Table shouldn't be a problem!"

"I still think that's cheating, you know," Ianto gravely informed the Doctor but the Time Lord ignored him, probably on purpose – he tended to do that if Ianto started what he called 'nagging'.

"This whole complex constitutes the Princess' headquarters. Bureaucracy like you wouldn't believe, she's got over 500 staff on her personal team alone. Whoever needed ten personal assistants anyway?"

"You'd be surprised."

They'd arrived at the headquarters which were surrounded by even more people, all dressed in the same-coloured clothing – maybe the Princess' employees, Ianto thought. If possible they seemed to be more inebriated than the people in the street, smashing glasses at the building amidst howls of laughter while the security guards positioned at the entrance watched on longingly.

The Doctor ambled over to one of them and flashed her a wide grin as well as his psychic paper.

"Hello there! We're here for the banquet?"

The woman – and Ianto really hoped that the alien standing in front of him was indeed female as he didn't want to repeat the rather embarrassing mistake he'd made on Riborous a few weeks ago – glanced at the psychic paper and then at Ianto. She smiled and nodded.

"You are most welcome! Come, the Princess awaits you."

Without sparing a further glance at the Doctor she pressed a button on her uniform and the entrance doors opened noiselessly.

"What did it say?" Ianto murmured as they followed her into the building. The Doctor flipped the paper open.

"The Doctor and Mr Ianto Jones, representatives from Earth to send human appreciation and thanks for years of successful work and cooperation, striving towards a united goal... The usual."

"Have you been to Heyl before, Doctor?" the security guard asked, turning towards Ianto.

The Doctor opened his mouth as if to protest but Ianto was faster.

"I regret to say I haven't," he replied smoothly, "It is beautiful and I appreciate being given the chance to witness such a joyous event and celebrate it with you."

"I'm glad to hear that!" the alien said and smiled, stopping in front of a row of lifts. She pressed another button on her uniform.

"This will bring you directly to the top floor."

"Thank you very much," Ianto said and discreetly touched the Doctor's arm. The Time Lord started.

"Yeah, um, thanks," he muttered and watched the guard leave the building with a frown on his face.

"I hate it when that happens," he complained as they entered the lift, "Honestly! The simpering look on her face..."

"You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous! How could I be jealous? Jealous, hah! No, what gets to me is people thinking you're, well, me!"

"You do look a bit young to be a doctor," Ianto pointed out and the Doctor snorted.

That hadn't been the first time someone had taken Ianto to be the Doctor and dismissed the Time Lord, thinking him his companion or, worse, his servant. It was understandable though, because Ianto looked a good ten years older and was also about five inches taller than the Doctor. He remembered the time they'd visited Victorian London because Ianto had quite fancied the idea of getting a custom-tailored suit from that time period and the Doctor had quickly joined him in his enthusiasm. The staff in the shop had observed the two of them in silent puzzlement for a while before asking why Ianto was considering buying his servant such fine suits.

Needless to say, the Doctor had not been pleased and cancelled all trips to pre-1960s Great Britain for the near future.

"I do not look young!" the Time Lord bristled.

"True," Ianto conceded, "You don't look young, you _are_ young."

Anything the Doctor might have replied was prevented by the lift doors opening. They stepped out into a large, airy room full of Thain who were in the middle of a drinks reception.

"Nice," the Doctor said approvingly, "We're on time."

A female Thain was walking towards them, a polite half-smile fixed on her face. She was wearing the same kind of overall as everyone else but it was of a deeply golden colour that Ianto hadn't seen before. She was followed by an entourage of important-looking people and Ianto decided that this had to be the Princess herself. Coming to stand in front of them she spread out her hands and opened her mouth in a silent snarl, revealing dangerously sharp teeth. Rather than a threat it seemed to be meant as a greeting though, because the Doctor imitated her as best as he could. Ianto followed suit, feeling a bit ridiculous to be baring his teeth at a complete stranger.

"Princess," the Doctor said, "It is a pleasure."

"It is indeed, Ianto Jones," the Princess answered and Ianto suppressed a smile. His companion looked decidedly put out but apparently didn't dare to correct such an important dignitary, especially not when she was standing between him and a large meal.

"Doctor," she greeted Ianto and he nodded at her.

"I'm pleased to meet you. How do you do."

The Princess inclined her head. "I did not expect Earth to send representatives. They are usually not all that considerate."

"Opinions are changing," Ianto replied. "It seemed only right to congratulate you personally on this anniversary. It is an exceptional event."

"And here I thought you had only come to check on us, see whether we're treating the Heyl according to the latest Committee resolution," the Princess said, waving away an anxious-looking personal assistant who was whispering something in her ear. "Shall we get that out of the way then? I will show you myself."

With those words the Princess swept into one of the lifts without a backwards glance, followed by three more Thain. The personal assistant she'd dismissed sent them both a look of despair.

"But the speech...!" he murmured, "The schedule!"

"We'll hurry, promise," the Doctor answered him cheerfully before they both entered the lift.

"What's going on?" Ianto whispered to the Doctor.

"Haven't the foggiest," the Doctor whispered back. "I suppose we'll find out sooner rather than later."

The Princess seemed to have heard them because she turned around. "Are you pretending to be ignorant of the matter?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I wouldn't say ignorant," the Doctor hedged.

"You humans have been pressuring us for years about handing over what's left of they Heylian race. You say it's because you want to bring them to court for crimes committed against the human colonists here and you conveniently forget that we're descended from both Heyl and those very colonists. This falls under our jurisdiction alone. No, you just want them so you can harness their telepathic fields to improve your communications network. We won't have it. There's not many of them left, degenerate as they are – but they're ours."

The lift had come to a halt and they stepped out into a broad corridor that was lined with room after room to both sides, with all the walls being completely transparent.

"These are they Heyl," the Princess said and Ianto gasped.

"Weevils!" he said and stepped closer to one of the rooms which contained a single alien creature. It was a Weevil, no doubt about it. Ianto had cleaned up after them often enough to know exactly what they and their bodily fluids looked like. The face, the snarl, the eyes and even the clothing were identical to the aliens inhabiting the sewers of Cardiff.

"Excuse me?" the Princess asked, standing next to him. Looking at her it was no wonder the Thain had seemed familiar to him. Their teeth and facial features resembled those of Weevils even if they were softer, a lot less prominent.

"I've seen these creatures before. We call them Weevils."

"Curious that you should have because they are all but extinct. The Thain and the Heyl fought a war. We won, over a thousand years ago. These are the degenerate lot that survived the attack. They can't procreate anymore, but their life spans exceed ours."

"Why do you keep them here?" the Doctor asked.

"For the same reason you want to get your little pink hands on them," the Princess answered sharply, "They enhance our communications network. This building is a hub."

Ianto stared at the Weevil – or Heyl – in the room and watched it crouch in a corner, snarling softly to itself. Torchwood did the same to them, locking them up, and yet he couldn't help but feel pity towards the creature inside its cage. This had been their planet once and then humans had come and taken it away. Still, it settled the mystery of why such a primitive race had been dressed entirely in decidedly non-primitive, identical clothing.

"Well," the Doctor said, "I think you've shown us that everything is in order regarding the treatment of the Heyl. Don't you think that as well, Doctor?"

He placed a sarcastic emphasis on the last word and raised an eyebrow at Ianto who nodded in return.

"Excellent," the Princess said, "Then let us enjoy the day's festivities before the Third PA kills me – or himself – for delaying my speech."

It turned out that the Third PA had not killed himself in their absence, though he was suspiciously close to a nervous breakdown. The Princess made her speech and although it was mercifully short and consisted mostly of thanks and acknowledgements, the Doctor was shifting restlessly by the time she finished. They'd just gone into another room for the banquet when some of the Thain in the room suddenly clutched their heads as if they were in pain.

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked the male Thain sitting next to him who was shielding his face with his hands and snarling softly.

"My mobile reception has just gone offline," he muttered, "I haven't been offline for years! It's so... empty."

Ianto looked across the room at the Princess' table. She was surrounded by a group of people all talking at once. Just then a security guard entered the room and made a beeline for where she was sitting, speaking to her in a rushed, urgent tone. When he'd finished speaking the Princess rose from her chair, thunder on her face.

"Doctor! Ianto Jones!" she called out authoritatively.

"Oh dear," the Doctor said mildly.

She approached their table and Ianto noted that everybody else around them had scooted away a few feet, exposing them to the Princess' fury.

"I've just been told," she began, "That our entire mobile network has suffered a breakdown. It's gone completely offline. Can you venture a guess why?"

"No idea," the Doctor said, sounding completely unconcerned. The Princess looked ready to rip his throat out and Ianto instinctively clutched the Doctor's arm as if willing him to shut up.

"You've got no idea. What about you, Doctor?"

"I suppose it's something to do with the Heyl?" Ianto offered carefully.

"Something to do with the Heyl. Something to do with the Heyl! That," the Thain spat, growing more angry by the second,"is an understatement. Do you think this is funny?"

She seemed to expect an answer and Ianto settled for a non-committal shrug.

"The Heyl are gone!" the Princess growled. "All of them. Their telepathic field collapsed, causing our network to break down. There's no trace of them. It's a bit suspicious, don't you think? Two weeks after the new resolution Earth sends human representatives when they haven't done so for fifty years – and now the Heyl have mysteriously vanished. Do you not think this suspicious?"

"I think there may be a misunderstanding -"

"Misunderstanding! You've stolen what's ours. I won't have it."

"You've got no proof -"

"No proof!" the Princess interrupted the Doctor, "Oh, we'll find proof. And until then I'm placing you both in solitary confinement. Earth will be notified of course..."

"Ianto?" the Doctor whispered and he nodded. The Time Lord gripped his hand, something that Ianto had reluctantly grown used to over the last two months.

"Run!"

- 15 -

"So what do you think happened to those unfortunate creatures?" the Doctor called out from where he was buried under the grid floor in the control room, fiddling with the temporal stabilisers.

Ianto looked up from the book he'd been reading - "Two Thousand Years of Heyl/Thain Interaction in Holograms" - and considered.

"I think it was the Rift," he said finally. "That's the only explanation I can think of. I know that we're going to have Weevils in Cardiff. The first reports of them date back to year 2000. The Rift must have taken those Heyl and placed them in Wales."

"I have to say, not much of an improvement for them," the Doctor teased. Then he cursed as he banged his head on some vital piece of equipment. "What's the setting on the sonic screwdriver to connect a low pass tachyon filter to an ordinary Gallifreyan power cable...?" he muttered to himself.

"1524 G," Ianto answered promptly.

"Huh?" The Doctor crawled out from where he'd been lying and stared at Ianto.

"The setting for connecting a low pass tachyon filter to a Gallifreyan power cable is 1524 G."

"How do you know that? I don't know that!"

"You had the instruction manual for the sonic screwdriver lying around in here last week. I was bored."

"You scare me sometimes."

Shaking his head, the Doctor resumed his tinkering and Ianto went back to leafing through the book, the content hum of the TARDIS surrounding them both.


	6. Parts 16 to 19

- 16 -

The insistent knocking on his door woke Ianto from random dreams involving Cybermen, rain pattering on London streets, a seemingly endless train journey and a dark-haired man running with his coat tails flapping behind him.

He sat up and stumbled out of his bed like a drunken man, high on exhaustion and fuzziness. Dim light began to illuminate the room as he went to the door and touched it briefly. Ianto might not be telepathic, but the TARDIS was. She picked up on his mental wish to open the door and it slid back noiselessly. Predictably enough the Doctor was standing behind it. The Time Lord was wearing a worn, pink dressing gown that made him look truly hideous, especially considering the fact that it was half three in the morning.

"What is it?" Ianto slurred, sincerely hoping that the Doctor hadn't become restless and planned on dragging him off to another adventure. It had happened before, more than once. After a day spent in the TARDIS the Doctor usually started shuffling and bouncing, rolling his eyes when Ianto announced that he'd be going to bed, only to coax him out of it two hours later with the promise of a spectacular sunrise on prehistoric Mallarkh or the last concert the Spice Girls had ever given in the year 2050.

"Sorry, did I wake you? Anyway, I've got something for you!" the Doctor proclaimed and then looked at him in an expectant sort of way.

"Yes?" Ianto prompted. "It's not that jellied horse dung you wanted to make me eat last week, is it? Because, really, there's limits to my tolerance for alien food."

"Jellied horse dung is a delicacy in two thirds of this galaxy, I'll have you know! And no, that's not it."

"Do you want me to guess?"

"That would be nice."

"Doctor -"

"Fine, fine! Be reasonable, then. No, I've simply noticed your interest in this..."

The Time Lord produced a sonic screwdriver from the pockets of his dressing gown and held it out to Ianto who looked at it quizzically.

"You've read the entire instruction manual, I figured you deserve to have your own."

"But that's yours, I couldn't possibly -"

"Of course I can, I'm giving it to you, aren't I? And this isn't actually mine. I've built you a new one."

"You've built me -?"

The Doctor dropped the screwdriver into Ianto's hand and he switched it on, watching the tip light up in a soft blue glow.

This explained the Doctor's preoccupation over the last few days, the increased time spent in the TARDIS with the Doctor holed up in his room and Ianto rattling around aimlessly through the ship. He'd discovered three swimming pools, a golf course and the library in the process.

"Thought you might appreciate it."

"This is wonderful," Ianto breathed, "Thank you."

"Worth waking up for?"

"Oh, definitely."

- 17 -

Ianto opened the interlock between the escape pod and the space station proper and found himself staring at the muzzle of a rather large gun. It was a gamma gun, he noted absent-mindedly, banned by the time he'd seen it in a 53rd century weaponry museum just two weeks ago.

"You," the woman holding the weapon in question snarled, "hands up and no funny business!"

"Ianto, what -" the Doctor started to say, coming up behind him.

"Oh," he muttered, raising his hands. "But we didn't do anything, honest!"

"Out of the pod," the woman commanded. "Now!"

Her gun didn't waver for a moment as she watched hem out of hard eyes. She looked to be completely human, a woman in her thirties, a full head shorter than Ianto. Pushing both of them further into the corridor of the space station, she sealed off the escape pod the Doctor had parked the TARDIS in. Then she tapped her ear.

"Barton? I've found them. Yeah, initiate the sequence."

"I'm sorry, but -"

"Silence!" she interrupted him. "Come with me and keep your hands where I can see them."

A sudden hissing sound from the interlock made the Doctor whirl around despite the gun aimed directly at his heart.

"What are you doing?" he cried out.

"Getting rid of all the pods, of course. We can't have anybody trying to escape, can we? Like you two. Now step away from the interlock."

"But that's my ship in there, you don't understand!"

"I understand perfectly," their captor said, "I understand that I've told you to step away from that lock. If you don't follow my orders, I'll have to shoot you."

"Doctor," Ianto said warningly.

"But -"

"Please."

Ianto's heart had skipped a beat when the woman had first threatened him. Even after months of travelling with the Doctor he still didn't appreciate the unexpected, especially if it was dangerous or life-threatening and this fell firmly under both categories. He'd found out quite quickly that the Doctor had a knack for getting them into some sort of trouble but this particular situation was breaking all the records so far. Being threatened at gunpoint when they'd only wanted to witness the launch of the first intergalactic deep space mission from this station (named _DG42_) was not his idea of a day well spent and now the Doctor looked ready to launch himself at a woman holding one of the deadliest weapons this side of the Milky Way.

The Time Lord glared at their captor for a few more moments before his shoulders slumped.

"Okay."

"Thank you," Ianto whispered to him as they were herded down the corridor and into a waiting lift.

"The things I do for you, Ianto Jones," the Doctor whispered back and briefly squeezed Ianto's hand.

"Hands where I can see them!" the woman behind them promptly snapped.

"Be that way," the Doctor sulked, "What's this all about anyway?"

The woman did not answer. Instead she was staring resolutely at the two of them while the lift ascended.

"Out," she barked as soon as its doors opened.

They entered a large circular room that took up a whole level of the cylinder-shaped space station. There were no proper walls, only transparent photon barriers allowing an unhindered view into deep space. Ianto thought that this had to be the observation deck. Dozens of people were sitting on its floor, most of them human. After all this was the 49th century. Humans had spread out across the galaxy and started to mingle, but space travel was heavily regulated and scientific exploration mission favoured humans over 'aliens'. When Ianto had remarked that surely this was just another form of discrimination the Doctor had merely raised an eyebrow, seemingly resigned to humans and their numerous faults.

The only people standing were the ones holding gamma guns. There were about twenty of them, woman and men all wearing the same determined expression.

"Sit," the woman ordered and gave the Doctor a push between his shoulder blades to make her point clear.

The Doctor sighed and settled down next to a group of young men and women wearing some sort of uniforms. Ianto sat next to him.

"Do you know...?" Ianto asked the Doctor in a hushed tone, but his companion shook his head.

"I had no idea. We'll have to wait and see. But damn them, they've ejected the pods and the TARDIS -!"

"Can you still feel her?"

"It's getting fainter. Soon she'll be entirely out of range and then -"

"Shut up!" one of the men in the group hissed at them, "Do you want them to come over? They've already killed Micah, wasn't that enough?"

"Sorry."

The Doctor stared gloomily at the ground and shuffled closer to Ianto. Normally Ianto took care to keep his distance from the Time Lord, mostly because he wasn't used to being randomly hugged by anybody. Now was not the time for that, however, not when the other man was clearly upset. Ianto cautiously slung an arm around the Doctor's shoulder and the Time Lord... well, he snuggled closer. The Doctor's black hair tickled his chin and Ianto inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. Of course the Doctor was an alien, many hundred years older than him. He looked like a teenager however, carefree but without the typical cocky attitude born of insecurity. It was that mix of insouciance and wisdom, the sloppy clothes of an eighteen-year old combined with the loneliness of the last of the Time Lords that woke Ianto's protective feelings, the desire to keep him from harm and ensure that he ate three proper meals a day.

"Listen!" one of the men holding a gun bellowed. He needn't have bothered – despite the observation deck being full of people it was nearly silent. People were too scared to speak.

"You are now hostages of the White Marquee. All of the escape pods have been ejected and all ships except for the _Le Coeur Doré_ have been disconnected. You have nowhere else to go and will be held captive until the United Terrestrial Council meets our demands. Insurrection and disobedience on your part will be dealt with."

"What demands?" somebody asked, clearly trying to be brave and failing, judging by their voice cracking on the second word.

"Pass codes for the _Le Coeur__ Dor__é_ and free space travel for who you pure-blood humans label 'alien' as well as the release of Jeddi Rainier," the man answered and shocked whispers broke out throughout the room. Somewhere at the back a woman started crying hysterically. The people sitting next to Ianto kept silent, staring at the hostage-takers with hatred in their eyes.

"Jeddie Rainier is the leader of the White Marquee," the Doctor explained his head burrowed against Ianto's chest.

"A criminal?" Ianto whispered.

"The worst. What they don't know is that he was executed about a week ago."

"Earth executed him?"

"No. The death penalty was abolished world-wide more than fifteen centuries ago. The United Terrestrial Council handed him over to one of the worlds he'd previously attacked. They were less concerned about human rights than your lot."

"And they don't know? Doctor, can you imagine what they'll do to us once they find out?"

"I don't want to imagine that."

"Is there no possibility we can... I don't know..."

"Between the two of us we have two TARDIS keys, two sonic screwdrivers, a bit of psychic paper and possibly half a chocolate bar. You know, I think we might stand a chance."

The Doctor had just started to sit up straight and formulate one of his half-baked plans when the whole space station shuddered. The lights went out and the nearly inaudible hissing sound of the air supply paused for just a second. Somebody screamed in terror. Then Captain Jack Harkness walked into the room and Ianto felt his world tilt on its axis.

"All right, folks!" Jack called out, "Party's over. You're under arrest for violating paragraph 3 of the Time Codex."

As soon as Jack had entered the observation deck every single gun in the room had been trained on him. He didn't seem to care and simply grinned as the man who had spoken earlier stepped forward.

"Who are you?" he snarled, "And what's the Time Codex?"

"Oh. Well, it only comes into power in about a hundred years. Still, the law's the law and you've broken it. The Time Agency doesn't take too kindly to people stealing from the future and then using it in the past, all relatively speaking of course."

"I think it's a trick," the woman who had captured Ianto and the Doctor hissed. "I think he's bluffing! There is no Time Agency, you know that as well as I do!"

"Oh, but there will be," Jack said and spread out his hands, "Look, we can do this the easy or the hard way -"

"Silence!" the leader ordered, "I don't know who you are and I don't care. Kill him, Leyla."

The woman raised her gamma gun and pulled the trigger. Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the stench of burning human flesh to fill the room.

Jack laughed and Ianto's eyes flew open. He wasn't quite sure whether his heart had resumed beating properly ever since the other man had entered the room. He knew that he was clutching the Doctor tightly to his body, his fingers digging into the Time Lord's arm. This was Jack. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't be here.

And yet...

This was Jack Harkness, but it wasn't the man Ianto had known in Cardiff. For one, he was considerably younger, looking to be around Ianto's age, and wearing a black uniform with silver insignia that made him look more intimidating than the military coat ever had. The cocky grin was the same, of course, except that he seemed to actually mean it. His accent was still American but it sounded muted and Ianto realised that despite their separation the TARDIS was still translating for him. Jack wasn't speaking English. He was speaking whatever language was used around these parts and Ianto couldn't stop looking at him, staring at his mouth and eyes and hands.

The Doctor squeezed his fingers.

"Ianto," he said softly, "Ianto, are you all right?"

Ianto nodded after a moment's hesitation and concentrated on the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

Jack was still smiling. The woman called Leyla was still holding her gun, a dumbfounded expression on her face.

"See, that's the thing with future technology," he said, "You've got to know how to use it. Stealing those gamma guns from my present is all good and well, but then to use it without disabling the temporal tracker? Not so smart. We caught your signal as soon as you fired a shot and put a high frequency EM-wave damper on this space station. Sorry, guys."

"Micah," one of the women sitting next to Ianto and the Doctor whispered, "They killed Micah with those guns."

"You're one man. We're over twenty soldiers. Your chances of getting out of here are... Well, let's say they're not good," the leader sneered, but a hint of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

"Ah. Didn't I tell you?" Jack raised his arm and revealed the brown wristband he was wearing. "I've brought some friends. Just to get the party started, you see."

He pressed a button and dozens of people shimmered into existence, each one standing directly behind one of the members of the White Marquee and pointing what Ianto recognised as a sonic blaster straight at their head. They were all dressed in the same black uniform as Jack. They had to be Time Agents, just as Jack himself was.

"Sorry," Jack said cheerfully, "Better luck next time, I guess."

He pressed another button on his wristband and all of their captors teleported away in a shimmer of white light together with most of the Time Agents. Jack had stayed and was now crossing the observation deck in long strides until he stood in the middle of the room.

"Listen!" he called out. "You're safe now. We've contacted Earth and they will send ships to evacuate you if you wish. Most of the ships docked to the station were only disconnected. You'll be free to leave once we've all given you a mild sedative to help you get over the shock."

The remaining Time Agents took up residence at the exits of the observation deck. People started queuing to leave as quickly as possible. Before they did the Time Agents gave them all a small pill that everybody swallowed obediently.

"It's an amnesia pill," the Doctor said softly, "The Time Agency doesn't like to draw attention to itself. You take it and within five minutes you'll have forgotten the whole incident."

"Like Retcon?"

"A bit more sophisticated than that. Jack developed Retcon based on what he remembered. And your Captain may be many things, but a chemist isn't one of them."

Ianto wanted to answer that Jack could hardly be called _his_ Captain but the Doctor had already got up from the floor.

"Time to go. Now, about those escape pods. Excuse me!" he tipped a passing Time Agent on the shoulder. The woman stopped and smiled.

"Yes, sweetheart, what can I do for you?"

She too spoke with an American accent and Ianto wondered whether this was the TARDIS' idea of a joke.

"The escape pods," the Doctor said, "Do you know what happened to the escape pods, they were ejected?"

"I'm afraid I don't," the Time Agent replied, "Why don't you ask the Commander though? He'll be sure to know."

She gestured towards Jack and then went to join her colleagues.

The Doctor turned to Ianto. "I'll go and talk to Jack; he won't know me. You stay here and keep out of sight."

"But -"

"Ianto, do you want to cause a paradox? You're not meant to meet Jack yet."

"Fine," Ianto gave in. "I don't suppose you could ask him what his name is?" he added hopefully.

"You know, you're right. He never told me either. Over three hundred years of his incessant innuendo and he's never told me his name..."

The Doctor crossed the room to where Jack was standing and Ianto did his best to melt into the shadows of a corner while still being able to observe both of them. His breath caught just a little bit as Jack flashed the Doctor a blinding grin and then, by the looks of it, started flirting immediately. Ianto couldn't hear what the two of them were saying but he saw Jack lean close to the Doctor and touch his shoulder.

Ianto inhaled deeply. He was sure that the prickling feeling in his stomach wasn't jealousy at the Doctor having Jack's attention all to himself. Well, nearly sure anyway. But despite knowing better, Ianto wished for the other man to look at him like that, to smile at him like that, even if it was just harmless flirting and didn't necessarily mean anything at all. Jack's gaze would meet his and –

Ianto turned around and forced himself to look out of the photon barrier that offered a spectacular view into deep space. The blackness was all-encompassing. There were no stars in this direction, nothing, only the promised of distant galaxies if you travelled for a very long time.

Ianto hadn't thought about Jack – much – during these last few months. He hadn't wondered about where the other man was or what he was doing because that kind of thinking was meaningless when floating through the time vortex on a random walk through the universe. Once he'd decided to come with the Doctor he'd left his life in Cardiff behind and Jack with it. Of course Ianto knew that he'd go back at some point, but that hadn't seemed to matter when he was tearing across the Crab Nebula or swimming in the sugar oceans of Alphoga.

Seeing Jack now was like bumping into a half-forgotten crush from school and finding out that it still hurt, just a little bit.

"Ianto?"

"Yes, Doctor?" he replied, not turning around.

"The escape pods will re-dock in five minutes. We can leave as soon as you want to."

"What about the amnesia pills? I don't want to forget this."

"I've got an antidote to them on the TARDIS."

"Good."

They went to leave the observation deck and Ianto swallowed the amnesia pill handed to him without a murmur.

He didn't turn around to look at Jack one last time and nor did he ask the Doctor for his real name.

- 18 -

"You and Jack were lovers, weren't you?"

Ianto didn't even pretend to be surprised at that question.

"How did you know?" he asked while deftly chopping vegetables for dinner. He'd taken both the amnesia pill given to him by a Time Agent and the antidote provided by the Doctor and now he felt queasy. There was an emptiness in his stomach that didn't match the chaos in his mind, images of guns and Jack blurring and distorting before his eyes. Maybe the amnesia pill had worked a little bit after all because he felt a dreamy detachment from the whole incident. To distract himself he'd declared that he'd cook tonight, a proper meal, not Martian take-away form the year one billion.

The Doctor shrugged and munched on a carrot he'd managed to nick despite Ianto's watchful gaze.

"You seem like his type."

"I believe that description fits most people and quite a few inanimate objects."

"True. But there's something about you. And they way you looked at him was a dead give-away."

"How did I look at him?"

"Longingly?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

Ianto filled a large saucepan with water and put it on the lit stove. Then he decided that he couldn't be bothered with waiting until the whole thing boiled on its own and pointed his sonic screwdriver at it. The water started bubbling away immediately and Ianto added the pasta together with a pinch of salt.

"You're saying you don't love him?"

"Why do you care?" Ianto asked.

"I don't. Just curious."

Ianto hesitated. "I don't know. No, I don't. But then he... Owen killed him. Shit, Owen killed him."

"He came back though."

"Only to die again. It's... There was Lisa. My girlfriend. The team killed her. They were... Anyway, I hated Jack. I should hate him. I promised to watch him suffer and die, and I did. I promised to watch and do nothing and I kept that promise. Only..."

"He came back, Ianto," the Doctor said gently. "He'll always come back."

"Gwen said he told her he couldn't die. I saw it happen. Why?"

"Long story. I'll tell you, but not today. Is that all right?"

"What if I told you it wasn't?"

"Then I'd try and distract you. With this, for example: One other name Jack will be know as is the Face of Boe. Famous throughout the whole universe."

"The Face of Boe," Ianto repeated incredulously.

"Well, he evolves, you see. He may look like a human in your time but in the year five billion he's basically a face. In a jar. Sorry," the Doctor added hastily as he saw Ianto's frown. "You didn't want to hear that?"

"Oh no, I was just wondering whether he won't miss certain other body parts at that stage," Ianto replied dryly and then smiled at the Doctors indignant exclamation of, "Ianto Jones!"

- 19 -

"I want to see how he died," Ianto said firmly one evening.

"Excuse me?"

The Doctor looked up from the massive book lying in his lap. For the last two hours he'd pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in the co-marital rituals of species of the inner Milky Way before the year 4/Apple/Alpha, their forms, developments and similarities, while really playing one game of _Tetris_ after the other on an old-fashioned grey GameBoy.

"I want to see how he died," Ianto repeated. "Jack, I mean."

"Ianto, Jack's immortal. The point of immortality is that you don't die," the Doctor explained very slowly as if speaking to a young child.

"But you told me that Jack is the Face of Boe. And the Face of Boe died in the year five billion in New New York. It says so in here," Ianto said, gesturing to the _Universal Who's Who_ lying in front of him.

"But why? Why this fascination with one man?" the Doctor asked, seeming genuinely puzzled. "The whole of time and space is at your disposal and you seem to be fascinated by your former boss."

To be honest, Ianto couldn't quite explain that fascination to himself either. He knew that Jack would return to Torchwood, thanks to Martha. He knew who Jack used to be, the heartbreakingly handsome and flirtatious Time Agent long before he'd up in 21st century Cardiff as a darker and more bitter man. And he knew that Jack was immortal. He'd seen him die twice and come back to life. He'd listened to the Doctor when he'd told him that Jack would be one of his companions again, presumably after he'd grown tired of leading Torchwood Three. And yet the thought of Jack – Jack with the smiles and shining teeth, with clever hands and warm lips, with a graceful body and powerful physique – ending up as a giant face in a jar was too alien for Ianto. He couldn't grasp it: It was beyond his understanding.

Explaining all this was impossible, not to the Doctor who was over a thousand years old and who changed his appearance on an involuntary semi-regular basis.

Ianto settled for an easier explanation that was no less true.

"All of time and space, yes. But I'm human, Doctor, from a time where we'd love to o be able to travel beyond our own solar system. How could I ever hope to fully understand the places and things you show me? But Jack, he's familiar. He'll be where I am at a fixed point in time and space and that's a comforting thought."

The Doctor stared at him for a long moment, his gaze only breaking when the GameBoy in his hands emitted an irritable bleep at being abandoned for too long. He switched it off absent-mindedly and chewed on his lip.

"I've never thought about it like that," he admitted, "Not a big fan of fixed points in time and space."

"So... About Jack?"

"Don't you think that's a bit morbid?" the Doctor persisted.

"I've watched Jack die before."

"Still, it's rather private, don't you reckon?"

"Listen, a simple 'no' would do just as well."

"Oh no! No, no, no, that's not it at all. Thing is, er, well – I've already been there."

Seeing his companion's surprised face the Doctor rushed on, the words bubbling out of him at an astonishing speed, "I didn't know he was Jack at the time, honest! I went to New New York when Martha was travelling with me and one thing led to another. The Face of Boe died. I can't cross my own time line. Sorry."

Ianto inclined his head, taking in what the Doctor had said and then gently traced the letters in his book where the entry about the Face of Boe took up most of a double page, a holographic picture slowly spinning in midair above it.

"So he died for good? You're sure."

"We didn't stick around to find out," the Doctor admitted, "I don't know. He seemed to be pretty certain about dying and staying that way though. And the _Universal Who's Who_ certainly seems to think so."

Dumping his own book and the ancient electronic device on the floor rather unceremoniously, the Doctor jumped to his feet, all smiles and bouncy energy. "Tell you what, let's find out! We could go there a couple of hours later. Three hours maybe? Just to make sure Martha and I have gone. I remember I had a bit of a spat with her, followed by a heart-to-heart about my past. Girl just planted herself on a chair and refused to move until I'd told her about the Time War and everything, can you believe it? Made me tell her quite a lot, too..."

The Doctor breezed out of the library, still talking – more to himself than to Ianto, his voice trailing off as he disappeared down the corridor.

Ianto stayed for a moment longer, looking at the hologram in front of him. He reached out and tried to touch it. His fingertips passed through unhindered, the light particles rearranging themselves around his skin. Closing the book abruptly, he followed the Doctor into the console room, clenching his hand into a fist as he went, as if to rid himself of a non-existent touch.


	7. Parts 20 to 27

- 20 -

As soon as the Doctor had landed the TARDIS, Ianto left the console room in long strides, hardly paying attention to the Doctor's exclamation of, "Ianto, wait...!"

He stepped out into a large, high-ceilinged room that was flooded with sunlight. The TARDIS was parked right in its middle, surrounded by marble, dust and corpses.

"Doctor?" Ianto asked softly, watching tiny specks of matter dance in the streams of light that were shining on the dead. These people hadn't died recently. Their bodies were dry and decayed and the air filling his lungs smelled perversely clean. He thought he could hear faint singing in the distance, a half-familiar hymn from his childhood.

"They died twenty-four years ago. There was a virus," the Doctor explained, his voice sounding muffled. "Jack... The Face of Boe protected parts of the city by giving his own life energy. He died from the strain... It's through here."

The Doctor led Ianto to a door that revealed a smaller, darker room. There was all sorts of technical equipment standing around, consoles and screens and cables that looked remarkably antiquated considering the year they were in. A huge jar was positioned against a wall, broken into a thousand pieces. Splinters and some sort of liquid were covering the floor in front of it.

Apart from that, however, the room was abandoned.

"What?" the Doctor said. "What?"

He squinted at the ceiling as if to make sure that no-one was hiding there. Then he crouched down in front of the broken jar and dipped his fingers into the clear liquid, picking up a shard of glass and turning it in his hand.

"He was here. He was here, Ianto!"

"How long has it been?" Ianto asked carefully.

"Three hours," the Time Lord answered. "Maybe four, but – he was here! And Hame, she couldn't have moved him on her own, not with a broken teleporter."

Ianto knelt next to the Doctor and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to fend off the oncoming dizziness.

"Maybe he came back to life," he finally suggested.

"But he died! And even if, he was... Well, he was the Face of Boe. It's not like he could have simply got up and walked away!"

"I suppose we won't ever find out now."

Ianto rose. Dust was filling his nose as well as something else. The smell of death, perhaps.

"Let's go," he said. "There's nothing here. Not anymore."

- 21 -

"What do you think?"

The Doctor grinned and spun round, stretching out his arms as he did so.

"It's a dress," Ianto said dubiously.

"This is not a dress! These are Trachain ceremonial robes of the highest quality!" the Doctor sniffed and twirled around once more, his long robes flaring as he did so.

Ianto had to admit that the texture and colour of the fabric were gorgeous. Smooth and rich to the touch, they were midnight blue in colour with silver threads running along the hem. Still, whatever the Doctor was wearing resembled an elaborate dressing gown more than anything else and Ianto told him so.

"Spoilsport," the Doctor huffed and inspected his appearance in one of the body-length mirrors that the TARDIS wardrobe had to offer. "So you don't think I should be wearing these tomorrow?"

"Where are we going tomorrow?"

"No idea! Still, they look pretty. Sort of. Where do you want to go?"

"I couldn't possibly say," Ianto said, making himself more comfortable in a squashy armchair. Most of the time the Doctor wore a rather generic outfit consisting of black trousers and a white shirt. Sometimes however he couldn't resist the urge to try out nearly every single item of clothing he owned. On those days the two of them would spend hours in the wardrobe, bickering over the Doctor's – non-existent, in Ianto's opinion – fashion sense. The Doctor usually emerged wearing something highly random and elaborate, only to ditch the outfit some hours later because it prevented him from running for his life and sprawling bonelessly.

As for Ianto himself, he'd quietly packed away the suit he'd worn the day he'd met the Doctor in one of the drawers in his room. He'd been sticking to contemporary – for him – jeans and shirts, withstanding every attempt by the Doctor to dress him up in something more adventurous.

Now the Doctor shrugged off the robe and stood before Ianto clad only in his boxer shorts, completely unconscious of the fact that he was half-naked.

"Don't give me that!" he said, "You've been quiet these last few days, ever since that trip to New New York. What's on your mind? Jack?"

"Well. Yes," Ianto admitted.

"I should have known," the Doctor said, bending down to pick up his crumpled pair of trousers and treating Ianto to the involuntary view of his rather skinny behind.

"I don't know why. It's just curiosity? Maybe. We used to spend hours wondering who Jack really was, you know."

Ianto tipped back his head and studied the lights on the ceiling with more attention than was strictly necessary. "Tosh ran every available search option on him and found nothing. He told Gwen more than the rest of us, but even so. She was – is – special to him, but he didn't even tell her the truth."

"Does that bother you?"

"It's a moot point, really," Ianto avoided the question. "He was our leader. We all betrayed him, one by one. He must have known not to trust us. And at the end of the day it doesn't really matter."

"I think it does!" the Doctor answered, buttoning up his shirt and stretching lazily. "It matters because you, Mr Ianto Jones, are still moping after nearly half a year in the most magnificent place in the universe."

"I," Ianto said with great dignity, "have never moped in my entire life."

The Doctor snorted and Ianto raised a questioning eyebrow. "It's the truth!"

"If you say so. Anyway. Tell me where you want to go and answer me honestly this time."

"The 51st century," Ianto replied promptly and the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"I should have known."

- 22 -

Ianto eyed the slim wristband the Doctor had handed to him with some curiosity. It was made out of light brown leather, with a small computer interface on its top. In fact, it strongly resembled Jack's mysterious all-purpose wristband.

"Put it on and don't lose it," the Doctor said. "Bit paranoid, this 51st century lot. Anything goes as long as you're recognised as a citizen by the central system. If the system doesn't recognise you... Well. The consequences aren't pretty. This is your ID, phone, diary, credit, network access, all compressed into one not-so-trendy bit of accessory."

"You created me a false identity for just one trip?" Ianto asked and tied the band around his left arm. The leather felt warm against his skin and the computer emitted a soft beep.

"The second you step out of the TARDIS the central system detects you as a human life form. Earth is ravaged by interplanetary wars as well as corruption in this century. You can imagine what they'd do to unidentifiable strangers stepping out of a random blue box."

"So where exactly are we going?"

"London, 5085. I don't want you running into any familiar faces -" he looked a bit puzzled at his own, inadvertent punt before swiftly resuming, "and Jack was born off-planet. If he ever went to Earth it would have been to enter Time Agent training and their headquarters are in Tokyo."

The Doctor fiddled with some of the buttons on the console and the grinding noise that indicated that they were leaving the time vortex gained in volume. It came to an abrupt halt and Ianto, already standing near the exit, opened the door and stepped out of the TARDIS.

He frowned and was turning around at the Doctor's frantic shout of, "Ianto? Ianto, come back here, we're -" when the door banged shut and the TARDIS dematerialised with a groan.

"Doctor?" Ianto asked softly, taking a step back and observing the place where a blue police box had stood just a moment before.

"Doctor!" he called out again, stretching out his hands as if trying to grasp at something invisible.

"Doctor!"

This was an exercise in futility, however. The TARDIS was gone. So was the Doctor.

- 23 -

Later, Ianto couldn't even begin to guess for how long he'd stood rooted to the very spot where the TARDIS had disappeared. At some point his legs started to cramp so he sat down on the tarmac ground. He sat cross-legged, his hands resting on his knees. He didn't move, didn't even so much as twitch. There was only his own soft breathing, the world going black for a split-second when he blinked and the growing panic in his mind.

He was here, presumably in the 51st century on Earth. The Doctor was in the TARDIS and the TARDIS had disappeared.

The TARDIS was gone.

It was this sentence that was running through his mind over and over again, a choked crescendo full of disbelief and the dim knowledge that he was way out of his depth here.

He couldn't fix this. He didn't even know with any certainty what had gone wrong.

Surely if the Doctor had decided to dump him he would have at least given him a warning? But the Doctor had called out to him, had told him to come back. The Time Lord had sounded genuinely agitated.

No, Ianto had to conclude that this had been an accident, an unfortunate glitch due to the TARDIS' precarious technology and the Doctor's adventurous navigation. Come to think of it, he'd never got around to fixing those temporal stabilisers properly. He'd fiddled, he'd cursed, he'd talked about replacing them ever since his regeneration had damaged them in the first place. At the end of the day, though, there had always been more interesting things to do, places he wanted to show to Ianto where it didn't matter whether they arrived ten years early or late.

Ianto had to believe this. He had to believe that the Doctor hadn't left him deliberately. He had to believe that right now the Time Lord was doing everything in his power to stop the TARDIS from moving any further through time. Ianto refused to contemplate the alternative because that way lay madness. The Doctor could be incredibly clever and resourceful if he wanted to be. He'd bring back the TARDIS, back to this very spot and in a couple of hours they'd both be getting mildly drunk in the console room, toasting to bad luck and timely intervention.

Ianto had to believe that.

From time to time, he looked up at the patch of sky visible between two skyscrapers as if to make sure that the TARDIS wasn't suddenly flying through the air and towards him. The colour of the sky slowly changed from an unclouded blue to grey; from orange to red and finally darkness, a starless, black night sky.

It had been at least twelve hours since the TARDIS had disappeared. Ianto's breathing had gone from frantic staccato to long gulps of air to keep himself from hyperventilating, to short, shallow breaths. His entire body felt cold although it had been a summer's day, judging by the mild temperature now that it was night. He suddenly became aware that he was hungry and that the clenching in his stomach didn't stem from either panic or fear.

Ianto got up slowly, having to push himself to his feet using both his hands. His world spun for a moment and bile rose in his throat.

If he left this place now; if he left wherever the TARDIS had stranded him, he'd actually choose to enter the active time stream. He would be seen by people. Even if they only became aware of him in peripheral vision it was still proof that he was indeed _here_, wherever that happened to be. The thought terrified him. It would be accepting the fact that the Doctor wouldn't return within the next few minutes. And what would happen if he did and find that Ianto was gone? What then?

No. He couldn't afford to leave this place. Not yet.

A sudden idea occurred to Ianto and he fumbled for the wristband the Doctor had given to him, taking it off his wrist and inspecting it more closely. The Doctor had said that this thing could do pretty much everything – taking the iPhone ten steps further and combining everything into one tiny device. He pressed the largest button and a holographic screen flashed up in front of him.

_'Welcome to the terrestrial ß-Network,' _it read and Ianto swallowed dryly. After some random clicking and virtual scrolling he found what he was looking for and pressed the _'Connect directly – now with human operator!'_ button with caution as if the expected it to explode in his face. There was a bleep, then a click and a cheerful voice rang out, "Seyjoun Antique Foods, how may I help you?"

"Yes. I was just wondering how long it would take you to deliver a European pizza to the coordinates I'm transmitting...?"

- 24 -

When Ianto woke up from a gritty haze he found himself leaning against the wall of a building and surrounded by empty take-away boxes.

He winced in distaste at the fuzzy feeling in his mouth and stood up. He was still in the abandoned alleyway where the Doctor had left him, a narrow dead end wedged between two improbably high skyscrapers. Above him a new day was dawning and there was still no sign of the TARDIS.

Sleep had not been restful for Ianto. He was feeling dizzy again, probably from sitting down all day and then eating too much of the food he'd ordered last night. He'd expected someone to deliver it to him and had mentally prepared himself for at least one or two awkward questions as to why exactly he wanted to have a full meal delivered to an otherwise empty alleyway. He'd been spared the potential embarrassment, however, because his food had been teleported directly into his lap about five minutes after he'd ordered it.

It was roughly twenty-four hours since he'd been left here. It was clear that Ianto couldn't stay in this alleyway forever. Sooner or later he'd have to go out and join the real world, even if it was only to find a place to take a shower and clean his teeth. Ianto could only hope that if – when – the Doctor managed to come back, he'd wait for some time before giving up on Ianto as a lost case.

Ianto stretched his aching muscles one by one and grimaced as he touched the stubble of beard on his face. Then he slowly shuffled out of the alleyway, blinking as a new day unfolded in front of his eyes.

Despite the early hour, the street he found himself in was busy with people, although curiously absent of any sort of vehicles. There were skyscrapers all around him, shining dully in the still-weak daylight. Some of them were projecting holographs which spun lazily in mid-air. From what Ianto could make out they were bits of news and the inevitable advertisements. The people bustling around him were dressed in all sorts of uniforms and most of them were talking, chatting away on phones that were no larger than a small earring attached to their ear lobes.

One thing Ianto noticed immediately was that everybody surrounding him looked distinctly Asian, probably Japanese. He was the tallest person as far as he could see, standing out in his oddly casual and outdated clothing. He never cared to blend in when he was with the Doctor, had never really given it much thought. It wasn't necessary, the Doctor said, because the trick was to act as if you owned the place and then nobody dared to comment on appearances. Even so, they'd been arrested once for inappropriate clothing – but that had been an accident.

Now, however, Ianto couldn't have drawn more attention to him if he'd tried. He was distinctly out of time, definitely scruffy and obviously ill at ease. People passing by raised their eyebrows and walked just a little bit more quickly, raising their voices on the phone to demonstrate their indifference.

Ianto desperately wished he was wearing one of his suits right at that moment.

He started walking and joined the flow of professionals going to work. Keeping his head low, he concentrated on his wristband instead. He still didn't know exactly when and where he was.

The initial welcoming screen flashed up once again. Ianto pressed the '_News_' button and sagged as he read the title: _'Thursday, 22__nd__ of August 5050, City of Tokyo'_. The Doctor had apparently miscalculated and landed Ianto in the very place ad time he'd wanted him to avoid. Tokyo was where the headquarters of the Time Agency were located and the probability of accidentally bumping into a past version of Jack were slightly more than zero than elsewhere on planet Earth.

Ianto clicked on the _'Location'_ function next and a miniature map of his surroundings sprang up in half-transparency before his eyes, indicating his exact position as a small, red dot. Apparently he was in the District of Finance & Democracy right now. The nearest hotel was half a mile away, a deluxe twelve star house supplying everything from a football-pitch sized swimming pool to willing and complimentary partners of all genders and species, as the blurb appearing on the map informed Ianto.

He could only hope that the Doctor had put enough money into his false bank account to pay for this decadence.

Ianto tucked the wristband into his trouser pockets and walked faster.

- 25 -

Postcard #3

City of Tokyo, 27th of August 5050

Doctor,

greetings from Japan!

To be honest, I wouldn't have thought I'd ever have to write a postcard to you, seeing as we were... well. Together?

It's been nearly a week, by the way, and I'm still here. I suppose I have to at least thank you for creating an identity for me, someone who is moderately wealthy. I wouldn't have appreciated being reduced to walking the streets, wondering where my next meal would come from. I do that anyway, wandering the streets, I mean. Not much else to do for me, is there? It seems that the endless stream of heroic adventures and life-threatening situations don't expand to your companions because so far the most exciting thing that's happened to me was when three Chula warriors propositioned me over breakfast this morning.

At this point it was quite tempting to accept their offer, actually.

In conclusion, the City of Tokyo is beautiful and I see now why Jack has these rather unconventional views regarding... dancing, as you put it? For me, however – I'm out of time and I'm stuck here.

Please come back.

Ianto

- 26 -

Ianto finished writing the postcard addressed to 'The Doctor, TARDIS, time vortex' and scanned it with his wristband. The wristband was supposed to recognise addresses automatically and then charge the price for a virtual stamp so the actual card could then be posted. In this case, however, it beeped in a puzzled sort of way and a message flashed on its tiny screen: _'Not valid. Please try again.'_ Ianto repeated the scan, with the same results: _'Not valid. Please try again.'_

He nearly crumpled the postcard by shoving it in the same pocket as his sonic screwdriver and drained his shot of hypervodka in one long gulp. Ianto barely resisted coughing as the liquid burned its way down his throat and dimly wondered what his team from Torchwood would say if they saw him like this: Hair in a disarray, with bloodshot eyes and a gaunt face from far too little sleep. He was still wearing his own clothes and simply had them laundered every night at the hotel he was staying at. And now he was sitting in a dingy bar at noon and downing a shot of alcohol so strong it was probably illegal in his own time.

This was a long way off from Ianto Jones, chief recorder and archivists of Torchwood Three.

Then again, he was a long way off from where he belonged. 21st century Cardiff or the TARDIS were both equally beyond his reach now.

He stood up to leave the bar. He couldn't remember why he'd thought that it would be a good idea to get drunk in the middle of the day. After one shot of hypervodka, he could think of a dozen reasons for not doing so, and killing his taste buds as well as his liver was only one of them. He had to stay alert and in control. He had to keep looking for the Doctor.

Most nights Ianto didn't even bother trying to sleep because restlessness always drove him out of bed in the end, halfway across the inner city and to that alleyway. Ianto would usually lean back against the wall of a building and wait, dimly listening to the nocturnal sounds of urban life around him until exhaustion made him fall asleep on his feet.

At that point he'd go back to the hotel, but even then he'd wake up every half hour or so, panic clawing in his guts. He'd feel that something wasn't right, that something was missing. In those few seconds between instinct and reality he could harbour the hope that maybe he was wrong, maybe everything was all right, maybe he was simply feeling the aftershocks of a nightmare.

And then his mind would clear up, knowledge that his dread and fear were justified sinking in and he would fall asleep again, eyes flickering beneath his lids as he dreamt.

Really, it was enough to drive any man to drink.

Ianto left the bar and stood outside, blinking in the overly bright sunlight.

Ianto had found out enough about 51st century Earth and its mildly confusing morals and customs to satisfy even his curiosity. His mental picture of Captain Jack Harkness was still incomplete but a few more puzzle pieces had slotted into place, belated answers to the _why'_sand _how_'s he'd asked himself while working for the other man. The flirting, the flippancy, the slightly derogatory comments about their century all made more sense now that Ianto was witnessing the 51st century firsthand: The total acceptance of every life style imaginable and the seeming absence of discrimination were paired with a curious emotional coldness in the endless news reports of a violent interplanetary war that Earth was currently engaged in. Pregnant human men walked the streets of Tokyo and Ianto had watched a wedding ceremony between to human women and an unidentifiable alien only yesterday. At the same time the Time Agency overruled all jurisdiction whenever it suited them and there were rumours of drafting in colonists to fight for their mother planet in the war.

Was that why Jack had joined the Time Agency? Had he been drafted in to fight against Earth's worst enemy imaginable? Or had he joined out of his own free will, thinking that adventures would lie in wait for him?

Those were puzzle pieces Ianto knew he was never likely to find. But those questions added to the weight in his mind and the best way to distract himself was to walk and to observe, to concentrate on the here and now. Ianto turned to the right and crossed the street, apologising as he avoided bumping into strangers. That was another thing that baffled him: He could still make himself understood and he himself understood everyone perfectly, everything up to and including the lewd remarks the Chula warriors had sent his way this morning. Most people spoke with an American accent and some spoke Welsh, which meant that the TARDIS was still translating for him. It was further proof for his theory that the temporal stabilisers had malfunctioned. The TARDIS was still and again standing in that very alleyway. It was shifted out of linear time, however, caught between the time vortex and the present City of Tokyo.

Ianto chose to walk through a large park that led to one of the rivers. It was noon and the park was busy with people eating their lunch and catching up with friends. There was chewing, talking, laughing and quite an amount of snogging as well as unabashed groping. He forced himself to look away from a particularly enthusiastic couple and sat on one of the numerous benches near the river to clear his head from the hypervodka.

Closing his eyes, Ianto stretched out his arms along the bench, sinking further into the seat and slouching. He couldn't reach the Doctor. He couldn't even send him a bloody postcard. He had no idea of when the TARDIS would finally stop her temporal hiccups and materialise again. Maybe she wouldn't. Maybe the Doctor had left for good after all, or the ship had gone backwards in time. Even if the TARDIS was skipping forwards right now, who could know how much time would pass? On Orion Three it had been five years. On Heyl it had been a hundred.

Ianto couldn't afford to wait that long. He had enough money to last him quite a while, that wasn't his concern. But he didn't belong in this time and he missed the Doctor. He missed Tosh and Gwen and even Owen. He missed Jack and the thought of dying as an old man in the 51st century while his former lover was taking the slow path through his own century filled him with horror.

He didn't belong here. More importantly, he didn't want to belong here.

Later, Ianto didn't know whether it was the hypervodka that had given him ideas or whether he'd finally scraped together enough courage to act on his own. In any case it suddenly occurred to him that time travel was entirely possible in this time period. It was inaccessible to civilians as well as illegal, but it was not impossible. And Ianto knew an organisation that had made it its objective to know everything about the intricacies of time travel, preserving the flow of linear time and punishing those who threatened it.

He nearly ran out of the park, towards the underground station whose line went straight on to the artificial island of Obaida, the location of the headquarters of the Time Agency.

- 27 -

"And why do you want to work for the Time Agency, Ianto Jones?" the white-haired man wearing a pair of incredibly old-fashioned spectacles asked.

Ianto leaned forward in his chair and hoped that he projected confidence.

"Because there are certain... disruptive elements in our intergalactic society which threaten the peace and personal freedom we're all striving to achieve. And because it is, quite frankly, the most exciting challenge I can imagine."

"Quite right, quite right," a gender-neutral alien sitting next to the white-haired man murmured. "Peace and personal freedom. Tell me, Ianto Jones, where have you picked up your rather unusual outfit?"

Startled, Ianto couldn't avoid glancing at his jeans and tee shirt. It had occurred to him while sitting on the train that maybe changing into something more formal might have been appropriate, considering that he was applying to become a Time Agent. Then again, with fashion what it was in this time, a pair of jeans didn't necessarily constitute casual wear and in any case he hadn't expected to be invited to stay for an interview right after filling in the appropriate forms anyway.

"Oh, here and there," he answered evasively. "I've always been fascinated by the late 20th and early 21st century."

"The 21st century is when it all changes," his third interviewer, a human woman in her fifties, said and Ianto looked at her sharply.

"So would you want to specialise in this particular time period?" she continued.

"If there is a demand for me in this field, then yes," Ianto answered firmly. "I think I could be an asset for the Time Agency in this respect."

He listened to himself talk and was reminded of the day he'd interviewed for a position at Torchwood One. He'd been nearly ill with anxiety back then, whereas now he was almost perversely relaxed, something that might be due to the alcohol through his veins. Ianto had also taken the time to read up on the Time Agency using his wristband on the train journey. The organisation was in some difficulties right now, with accusations of corruption and war-mongering flying about. There was talk of bringing in Torchwood to sort them out – and Ianto had allowed himself a small smile, realising that it still existed – and the Time Agency was opposing this vehemently. Recruitment had been decreasing steadily over the last few years. All in all, Ianto didn't think they'd turn down anyone who applied, even someone who looked and talked like a relic from three thousand years ago.

"Well," the gender-neutral alien said and blinked at him, its milky white eyes momentarily obscured by an orange sheen of skin, "this has been most fascinating. You would certainly be an usual addition to this year's intake of recruits. We will let you know about our decision as soon as possible, Ianto Jones."

"Thank you very much."

Ianto got up and smiled at every single one of his interviewers before leaving the room. He kept his back straight and his face impassive as he left the large HR building at the edge of the island and went to catch a train back to the main land, just in case they were observing him on camera. It was something Torchwood One had done, observing its potential recruits to see what they were like when they weren't pretending to be competent and clever.

Once he'd boarded the train he allowed himself a small grimace, licking his suddenly dry lips. He fumbled in his pockets and found the postcard he'd written to the Doctor some hours earlier. Its front showed the various incarnations of Tokyo Tower, its original Eiffel-tower shape, subsequent destruction and recent resurrection as a high-class virtual brothel. It had appealed to Ianto's sense of humour, buying something that showed the passage of time from his personal present to this strange new world.

He smoothed out the creases in the paper and scanned the postcard with his wristband again, just in case.

_'Not valid. Please try again.'_


	8. Parts 28 to 33

- 28 -

Interlink Message #1

Sent 1st of September 5050, 09:00:00

Received 1st of September 5050, 09:00:01

Dear Ianto Jones,

We are pleased to inform you that your application with the Time Agency has been successful. You have secured a place in our training academy, division 1 (location: Obaida, City of Toyko, Earth) and your course will start on the 7th of September 5050.

Below are listed further details:

Course: MSoTa – Special Ops Time Agent (4 – year degree course)

Start: September 5050

Graduation: July 5054

Classification: cadet, student, male, mature, contemporary, terrestrial

Fees: n/a, fully funded

Accommodation: Leydlun College

Room 4, Division 5 a)

Division 1, TA

Obaida, City of Toyko

Earth (Sol-3)/Solar System

Cohabitation: Yes

Room mate: Akiko Jay

On-campus accommodation is compulsory. Full health-check and complete immunisation are provided and compulsory. Temporary sterilisation is compulsory before completing any modules that require leaving linear time.

Please note that in addition to choosing a specific time period spanning no more than two hundred years for your final year project you will be required to learn at least one of the following languages in real life (IRL): Hebrew, Latin, Classical English, Ancient Mandarin, Afrikaans. Translation devices are not permitted in examinations.

Welcome to the Time Agency.

Yours sincerely,

The Management.

- 29 -

"Oh, hello!" a bright voice said behind him and Ianto turned away from contemplating the view through the photon barriers of his new room.

A woman about his age was standing in the open doorway. She was human and Asian in origin and quite tall, with lively dark eyes and hair dyed a rather eccentric orange shade. A large bag was slung over her shoulder and she was already wearing the generic black uniform that had been handed to Ianto this morning with the warning not to lose it.

The woman smiled and entered the room, dropping her bag on one of the wide double beds.

"I'm Akiko Jay," she said with a pronounced American accent, "I guess you're my room mate? Ianto Jones, was that it?"

"That's right," Ianto replied and stretched out a hand in greeting, "Pleased to -"

He didn't get any further, however, because Akiko Jay had crossed the room to where he was standing, ignored his outstretched hand and kissed him full on the lips.

To say that Ianto was shocked was a bit of an understatement. For a split-second he simply remained frozen, his brain caught in an explosion of panic. Then he raised his arms as if to pry the woman off him, but she broke the kiss herself after swiping a curious tongue over Ianto's bottom lip. For a moment neither of them spoke and then Akiko Jay smiled brightly at him, completely unconcerned by the fact that he was currently finding it quite hard to breathe and probably blushing six ways to Sunday.

"There, greeting over and done with. You're not one of those prudes from some backwater colony, are you? Only your file said you're from Earth, I looked you up as soon as they sent me my confirmation."

She began unpacking her bag, piling clothing and toiletries on the bed while chattering away.

"And I've got to say, I'm glad you're a mature student! Not one of those young upshots from the Centauri system who think they know it all just because their grandpa took them time-hopping on a Sunday. Oh, what language are you doing? I've chosen Classical English, it's supposed to be really easy even though they still used gendered pronouns back then..."

Ianto was desperately scrambling for something akin to composure and clung on to it for dear life.

"I've chosen Classical English as well," he said carefully. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure how learning to speak his native language would work in combination with the TARDIS translation circuits.

"Excellent!" Akiko Jay beamed. "You know I didn't really want to become a Time Agent, the sterilisation put me off at first. But then Hiroku Makuko – that's my primary partner, by the way – said she'd have my babies whenever I want them so I guess it's all right. What about you, any primary or secondary partners you've left at home?"

Ianto thought of Lisa, twice dead in the basement of the Hub, and he thought of Jack, complaining about the 21st century and their obsession with restrictions and categories.

No," he said, "Not anymore."

Akiko Jay made a soft tutting noise and turned around to face him, hands on her hips. She mustered him critically and Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"Surprising, really," she commented, "You do look quite hot, even in that retro outfit. You're not one of those temporal geeks? I can't stand them, they're always harping on about how great the lunar parties were in the 35th century or that nobody is as sexy as a sweaty Roman soldier. I mean, please!"

"So," Ianto said and sat down on his own bed, groping for a polite topic of conversation without any sexual connotations whatsoever, "Why do you want to become a Time Agent?"

Akiko Jay shrugged. "I got bored with fine-tuning other people's spacehoppers without being able to buy my own. I figured that twenty years in this place would get me enough cash to buy Hiroku Makuko and me a nice little space-glider and then we're going to see the universe. What about you?"

"A friend of mine is – was a Time Agent. I suppose I became... curious."

"Huh," his room mate said, "must be some friend if they impressed you that much. You sure they've not got partner potential?"

"Positive," Ianto said and then started changing into his new uniform. He neatly folded his jeans and tee shirt and put them away. He kept the TARDIS key fastened on a leather band around his neck and put on the black trousers and jacket provided by the Time Agency. He touched the collar of the jacket and heard a soft noise, indicating the activation of the tiny nanites woven into the fabric. A small golden sign appeared on both sleeves, showing his rank as Ianto Jones, cadet of the Time Agency.

Akiko Jay whistled and clapped as he'd finished dressing. She nodded appreciatively and held the door open for him.

"Come on then, Ianto Jones! Time to get the party started. Induction, then introduction to fellow cadets and then a first riveting lecture on Temporal Physics."

Ianto took a moment to centre himself, a sudden and unbidden image rising in his mind: Tosh was happily explaining technobabble about the mechanisms of the Rift into her earpiece while typing away at her keyboard. He thought he could almost hear the dripping of the water tower and the smell of coffee surrounded him in half-forgotten familiarity.

He blinked and the picture in his mind's eye disappeared.

Smiling slightly, Ianto followed Akiko Jay out of the room.

- 30 -

Postcard #4

City of Tokyo, 15th of December 5050

Dear Tosh,

Greetings from Tokyo and merry Christmas!

I would have liked to send you a futuristic Christmas card depicting a Cyborg Santa, but the ban on public displays of religion is still going on strong after several hundred years and most people simply stared at me blankly when I asked them about Christmas.

My first term as a cadet is nearly over. I've got an oral exam in Classical English tomorrow. Topics of discussion will include, _'The Discriminatory Nature of the Gendered Pronoun'_ and _'Authors of the 22__nd__ century'._ If I get back I'll be able to recommend future bestsellers to you before they get written – and won't that look impressive on my CV?

I've also found out that becoming a Time Agent isn't enough to obtain one of those devices that let you travel through time – you know, Jack's wristband? It's called a vortex manipulator and is only given to officers ranked as Commander. The average time to become a Commander is ten years, so I may have to look into alternative methods of obtaining a vortex manipulator if I ever want to wish you a merry Christmas in person again.

I hope you're well. I hope that Owen and Gwen aren't giving you too much grief and that you've got some new alien bits of flotsam and jetsam to keep you interested and that you'll be there when I get back. They've taught me some things in Basic Quantum-Gravitational Computation that I think might be implemented in the Hub computers, with hopefully spectacular effects.

Take care of yourself, Tosh. I'll see you soon!

Ianto.

- 31 -

"Hey Ianto Jones, what did you get on your exam?" Akiko Jay asked, sitting cuddled up to Thomas Tahabita in the common room while waiting for their laboratory session to start.

Ianto, who was poking his sonic screwdriver at his wristband, didn't reply right away. For the last week he'd been trying to modify it to detect temporal anomalies. It was all in vain so far, but although three months had passed with no sign of the Doctor of blue police boxes whatsoever, he still hadn't given up hope that the Time Lord would be there one day to pick him up again.

"What exam?" he asked absent-mindedly, flipping through the settings on the sonic screwdriver.

"The oral exam in Classical English," Thomas Tahabita said, nuzzling Akiko Jay's neck affectionately. The two of them had become lovers two hours within meeting each other, although the man was a good ten years younger than Ianto's room mate. Ianto had been driven out of his bed more than once in the last few weeks by their whole-hearted and repeated celebration of their sexuality.

Ianto still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Akiko Jay was spending every few minute with the young man while speaking lovingly about her primary partner and the life they were planning on having together once she was rich.

Now Ianto looked up from his slightly mutilated wristband and barely suppressed a frown. He hadn't been worried overmuch about this particular exam. 'Classical English' was his native language, after all, and the idiosyncrasies that his fellow cadets were always complaining about – genders and the ridiculously small number of future tenses – were familiar to him, his brain wrapping itself easily around the sentences and expressions containing _she _and_ he _and_ will _and_ won't._

"I got eighty percent," he finally said and sighed as Akiko Jay promptly began to giggle.

"Eighty percent! Why, Ianto Jones, you're slipping. Mind you, I nearly failed, but what did you do to get this less than perfect mark? Mix up your vocabulary? That's what go me."

"My... unorthodox pronunciation was a point of criticism," Ianto replied. He still couldn't quite believe that they'd deducted marks because he'd talked with a Welsh accent. The Classical English taught at the Time Agency was American English and Ianto had failed to comply with rules and regulations.

"Better luck next time, eh? Still, you actually sound half-decent when you speak that gobbledygook and you still haven't told me where you learned it."

Ianto smiled thinly. "It's a gift," he sidestepped the actual question. To be honest, he'd been rather relieved on finding out that the TARDIS seemed to know when to stop translating what he said and leave him to blunder his way through language lessons on his own.

"Listen, I've got to -" Ianto started to say and then interrupted himself as a strange warmth was suddenly spreading across his chest. He hastily fumbled for the TARDIS key hanging around his neck. He usually took great care to keep it hidden, but now he really ripped the leather band from his neck and dangled the key in front of his eyes. The TARDIS key was glowing.

It was _glowing._

Maybe he wouldn't need to build a temporal anomaly detector after all.

"I've got to go," Ianto said hoarsely.

"Go where?" Thomas Tahabita asked, "You can't leave now, we've got a laboratory session in ten minutes."

But Ianto didn't even pretend to listen to him. He scrambled out of his seat and sprinted out of the common room, leaving his sonic screwdriver, wristband and astonished friends behind. He tore out of the building and to the underground train station in a run, gripping the TARDIS key like his life depended on it.

And maybe it did; maybe it really did.

The key was glowing in a golden colour that seemed to pulsate softly, increasing and decreasing in intensity. The warmth emanating from the metal, however, stayed constant. Although Ianto's hand grew uncomfortably hot after a while, he clutched it more tightly in his fist, boarding the train to the mainland and nearly vibrating with impatience at the apparent slowness of the train.

The TARDIS key was glowing. It was reacting to something, and surely that something would be the TARDIS itself?

Ianto was too nervous to sit down. Instead he paced up and down the aisle, his thoughts racing. What if he came too late and the TARDIS was already gone? What if it was a false alarm and he'd left Obaida without a valid excuse? Cadets weren't allowed to leave the island without express permission and he'd just broken that rule without a second thought. Maybe he should have never joined the Time Agency in the first place. Or maybe he should never have agreed to come with the Doctor at all. He should have stuck with suits and bin bags and coffee cups instead of going gallivanting round the future with a dimensionally transcendental Yale key in his hands.

The train came to a nearly imperceptible halt after what seemed like half an eternity to Ianto, and he was out of the carriage before the doors had fully opened.

He reached the alleyway in a matter of seconds and closed his eyes as the high-rise buildings around him blurred and tilted. The key released a flash of hotness. A gust of wind swept thro.ugh the narrow street, and a low grinding noise filled his surroundings. In front of him, Ianto could make out the faint contours of the TARDIS, slowly becoming strong enough to be opaque. He stretched out his hand, wanting to touch the wood. This was it: This was the TARDIS and he was going home. He'd ask the Doctor to take him back to Cardiff, drop him off at his house or in the middle of the Roald Dahl Plass, it didn't really matter to Ianto. He wanted to be back where he belonged.

The blue police box materialised fully and the TARDIS key in Ianto's hand went abruptly cold. He tried touching the door handle, but was nearly blown off his feet by a particularly strong gust of wind. Coughing, Ianto squinted and tried pressing against the invisible force keeping him away from the TARDIS.

"Doctor!" he called out, "Doctor!"

To his horror the TARDIS then began to fade away rapidly in front of his eyes. The blue door became fainter and then see-through, revealing the building behind it before vanishing completely.

"Doctor?" Ianto asked again, although he knew this be an exercise in futility. The TARDIS was still in the middle of its materialisation sequence. It had never been firmly grounded in this present time and space at all, and Ianto had come in vain.

He was still here, still stuck, and still alone.

- 32 -

It was close to midnight when Ianto returned to his quarters in the training academy. He'd chosen to walk back to Obaida and what was a five minute journey on the underground train had turned out to be an hours-long trek across the City of Tokyo on foot, but he'd needed this time to clear his head. The desire to break down had been strong, as had been the need to go and lose himself in the city crowd, to drown his anger and confusion in hypervodkas until he couldn't remember his own name, let alone why he was drinking in the first place. In the end Ianto had done neither. He'd simply started walking and not stopped until he'd crossed the Rainbow Bridge and reached the main entrance to the Time Agency. Mitsue Jackson, one of his tutors, had been waiting for him there, her dark face stormy as she'd caught sight of him.

Ianto had broken the rules. He'd skipped the laboratory session and left Obaida without notifying his superiors. She'd stiffly informed him that such conduct was highly unbecoming of a future officer of the Time Agency and then dragged him off to see Nayedo Teapau, the general supervisor of Leydlun College which Ianto belonged to. He'd read Ianto the riot act and the result was that he would be fined – not that Ianto cared about losing money that wasn't really his in the first place – and a note made in his file.

Ianto entered the semi-dark room. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion and he exhaled quietly.

"Ianto Jones?" Akiko Jay asked, sitting up in her bed. She was as naked as the day she'd been born and completely unconscious about that fact. Ianto couldn't help but remember Jack wandering around his room in the Hub without a stitch on his body. He'd smiled incredulously when Ianto had inquired about his lack of modesty. Bile rose in Ianto's throat now and he nodded at his room mate and Thomas Tahabita who was lazily caressing her breast. Normally Ianto would have excused himself and gone on the spend the night in the common room. Now, however, he just started stripping methodically, taking off his uniform jacket and letting it land in a messy heap on the floor.

"Where have you been?"

"It doesn't matter," Ianto answered tiredly and dropped the band with the TARDIS key on the nightstand next to the bed.

"But we were worried about you! Mitsue Jackson was furious but then again she's a right bitch most of the time anyway."

"I've seen her."

Ianto sat on his bed wearing nothing but his uniform trousers and leaned forward, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you all right?" Thomas Tahabita asked, leaving his lover and crouching down in front of Ianto. He took one of Ianto's hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Ianto looked at him and couldn't find the strength to lie convincingly. He settled for a short shake of his head and then the other man leaned in slowly and kissed him. Ianto kept his eyes open and responded to the touch of lips. He could make out Thomas Tahabita's face, the white skin smooth and unmarred by blemishes. His eyes were so dark brown as to be almost black, an odd colour for someone with such a fair complexion. A few strands of blond, slightly curly hair had fallen into his face and Ianto found himself brushing them back gently.

Eventually the other man broke the kiss and smiled and smiled at Ianto.

"Do you want to...?" he asked and nodded towards the other bed where Akiko Jay was watching them calmly and without any hint of jealousy.

Ianto cocked his head and contemplated the pair of them. He imagined Lisa, sleeping in on a Sunday morning. He imagined Jack, shifting restlessly in his bed because he couldn't ever sleep.

"Yes," he said simply and grasped Thomas Tahabita's hand, accepting the invitation.

- 33 -

Carefully pointing the sonic screwdriver at the control panel, Ianto punched in the correct code sequence to open the door and hoped that this would work. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen if he were discovered in the administrative building of the Time Agency at three in the morning and without any authorisation whatsoever. A fine and a note in his files would probably be the least of his worries then. Two months after his last misconduct he'd be lucky if the Time Agency didn't wipe his memory as well as his identity and leave him in the City of Tokyo to fend for himself.

The door slid back noiselessly and Ianto slipped through, locking it behind him with another flick of his sonic screwdriver. He was standing in a large, open-space office, completely abandoned at this hour. He chose a work station that would allow him to observe the door without being spotted by potential intruders and started booting up the system.

In the two months since the TARDIS had nearly come back, Ianto had thrown himself into his studies with a fervour that surprised everybody but himself. He learned about the customs and morals of the 25th century terrestrial colonies and the culinary delights in the Egyptian Empire. He learned how to spot anachronisms in time periods he himself was unfamiliar with and how to operate a gamma gun in five easy steps.

That was during the day, however. At night, Akiko Jay and Thomas Tahabita taught him everything about 51st century sex there was to know, proving themselves skilful and considerate lovers.

Ianto lived his life at the Time Agency in dreamy detachment, completely focused on his task of getting back to his own time and soaking up every bit of knowledge that could be of help along the way. It was that focus and determination that had earned him his A levels and university degree. It was this stubbornness that had allowed him not to fall apart after Lisa's real death and Jack's apparent one. Now it would help him to break into the Time Agency's security system and found out where they were storing their long-distance vortex manipulators.

Because, at the end of the day, Ianto was nothing if not determined to leave this century behind (or was that ahead?).

The screen in front of him indicated that he should enter another access code and Ianto connected his wristband to the network. He'd been able to find the administrative access codes buried deeply in the system only last week on the work stations at Leydlun College. To access the central system itself, however, he needed to physically be in the building because the computers could only connect if they actually registered an authorised life form.

Ianto frowned at the screen and thought that Tosh would probably kill to work with these computers. The system at the Hub was decades, if not centuries, ahead of anything else available on Earth at that time. However, it was also alien in origin and nobody had ever fully understood how it worked. The Time Agency computers, on the other hand, operated at full capacity and were carefully maintained.

He started navigating through the system, looking for the location and codes to the storage facilities when a data heading caught his eye: _Torchwood_. He quickly checked the time and saw that it was only ten past three. The first early morning workaholics would come in at half five. There was enough time to satisfy his curiosity. Ianto touched the screen, opening the folder labelled _'Torchwood'_ and scanned the relevant files presented to him in a node system astoundingly similar to the one Torchwood Three used.

There was information on Torchwood's headquarters – surprisingly enough still in Cardiff and taking over the whole bay area by now – and its employees, possible sources of funding and the mysterious leader of Torchwood, someone only known as the Captain.

Ianto accessed the file quickly. Ever since the Doctor had told him that not only Jack was unable to die but also truly immortal, he'd entertained the notion that maybe Jack would stay and carry on leading Torchwood long after his team – Gwen, Owen, Toshiko and Ianto himself – had died. What if the Captain wasn't somebody who had inherited a traditional title, but Jack himself, persevering throughout the centuries?

The information made available to him was sparse, however. There was no picture, not even a hint as to the man's physical appearance. All the system could tell Ianto was that the Captain was indeed a human male and had been heading Torchwood for at least five centuries. There was some speculation as to whether he cloned himself or whether his was a rare case of longevity, but there simply wasn't enough known about him to extrapolate. The Captain didn't attend any meetings or public appearances outside of Torchwood and refused to communicate via interlink. The file sourly noted that several attempts on his life had been unsuccessful simply because nobody knew what the man looked like.

"Fascinating subject, no?" a low voice said behind him, and Ianto couldn't suppress a violent flinch. He jumped up, kicking over his chair in the process and found himself face to face with Mitsue Jackson. She was regarding him calmly, hands buried in the pockets of her uniform trousers and wearing an amused expression on her face.

"Ma'am," Ianto said stiffly, crossing his hands behind his back and standing up straight. He forced himself to look the woman in the eyes, holding her gaze without giving any indication of the sharp pang of nausea churning its way up his throat right now.

"Ianto Jones," Mitsue Jackson murmured. "I thought you were a bit boring when I first met you. You were the only cadet this year not crawling into my bed within two weeks of the new term. May I ask you what you're doing in the administrative building at half three in the morning using stolen access codes?"

"You may," Ianto replied evenly.

"And are you going to tell me?"

"I'm afraid I won't," Ianto answered. He was already in deep enough trouble as it was. Admitting that he was planning on stealing a vortex manipulator on top of it was out of the question.

Mitsue Jackson released a short, incredulous bark of laughter.

"Ah, but you've got guts! I like that. What am I going to do with you?"

"I believe," Ianto said, "that the recommended course of action is to detain me temporarily while you alert security and notify Nayedo Teapau as supervisor of my college. This would be followed by placing me in temporal stasis until my trial at which I would be found guilty, stripped off my memory and identity and left in the inner city for the municipal authorities to find."

"I'm impressed," his tutor said. "You've researched this quite thoroughly."

"I like to be prepared."

"And you go to all this length just to snoop around the Torchwood files and its leader?"

"Actually, that was just a side project. Interesting read, though."

"That it is. Do you know, I applied to Torchwood. Got turned down and ended up here. But I've met the Captain once, and that's not something many people can say of themselves."

"What does he look like?" Ianto asked swiftly. Dimly, Ianto wondered whether Jack would remember the Welsh receptionist he'd had three thousand years ago.

"Ah, that's what everyone asks." Mitsue Jackson sighed. "How boring."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Turnaround is fair play."

"I wanted to find out where the Time Agency stores its time-travelling devices so I could steal one to go back in linear time," Ianto said and the woman smirked. She stepped closer and put the upturned chair back in its place. Then she disconnected Ianto's wristband from the work station and admired the sonic screwdriver lying next to it.

"I'm still not going to tell you," she said. "Sorry. Here, you'll want to take this."

She grabbed Ianto's hands from behind his back and dropped the wristband and sonic screwdriver into them. She didn't let go immediately, however, instead tracing out the lines on the palm of his left hand.

Ianto stood still and Mitsue Jackson finally looked him in the eyes and smiled, dropping his hands.

"You should go now," she said, "Your partners are probably already missing you and you've got class tomorrow at nine o'clock. How to disguise yourself as a native, I believe. Not that you'd need the practise, you're doing quite a fine job so far."

"What -?" Ianto started to ask.

"Go now," Mitsue Jackson said sharply. "Before I really do start thinking about putting you in temporal stasis."

Ianto obeyed, leaving the room with brisk steps and not quite daring to look back.


	9. Parts 34 and 35

- 34 -

"Ianto, what's the seventh article of the pre-temporal variability Shadow Proclamation?" Akiko Jay asked, peering at her wristband.

"It's about the non-interference concerning less advanced species. It specifies guidelines of how to treat alien species that don't have the means to travel beyond their own solar system. The article is legally binding with regards to planets that haven't signed the Proclamation or are ignorant of its existence," Ianto answered without hesitation. He was lying flat on the grass, eyes closed against the glaring sunlight.

"Correct!" his room mate and lover replied. She pressed a button on her wristband, opening the next set of questions. Ianto's second term at the Time Agency had nearly come to an end. Lectures and laboratory sessions were finished, but all cadets would have to sit exams in a week's time, to show what they'd learned in six months of training. Ianto, who hadn't had exams since leaving university several years previously, felt slightly alarmed at that prospect.

"All right, the next question is for Thomas Tahabita, who's a lazy bastard, by the way," Akiko Jay continued. Thomas Tahabita was lying with his head resting on Ianto's stomach, dozing contently while Ianto and Akiko Jay were revising. Now he opened one eye and glared at the woman.

"I am not a lazy bastard," he informed her loftily. "My time management is simply more effective than yours and I don't need to start revision until twelve hours before an exam."

"Keep on dreaming," Akiko Jay said. "You'll fail, you know, and then what would your fathers say?"

"Don't remind me," Thomas Tahabita said. "Oh, go on, then."

"Right. You get... history! What year was Torchwood founded in?"

"That's not known and has been a subject of academic speculation for centuries. The estimate is sometime after the Second World War. Torchwood went public in the early 21st century and it is thought that they themselves know but are refusing to publish their records."

"And that's right!" Akiko Jay said, sounding surprised. "You didn't sleep through all of those lectures after all."

"Yeah, I'm just full of surprises."

Ianto contemplated giving in to temptation and explaining the foundation of Torchwood in detail, just to see the looks on their faces. In that case, however, he'd also have to explain how he'd acquired that particular bit of knowledge, and that was simply out of the question. In the last months he'd become quite apt at deflecting questions about his life before joining the Time Agency, either by making a joke or by not reacting at all. Ianto knew that Thomas Tahabita and Akiko Jay were curious and not a little worried about him at times, but despite having become rather fond of them, he never seriously considered telling them the truth.

No, it was easier like this: Sitting in the small park belonging to Leydlun College and letting the sun shine on his face, worrying about exams and forgetting that this was an illusion, a temporary glitch to be fixed at the nearest opportunity.

Akiko Jay now lay back as well, switching off her wristband and closing her eyes. Ianto idly studied her face, the planes and angles of her cheeks, the slightly upturned nose and the faint tattoo sneaking its way up her neck and finishing just under her ear. He tried picturing her living in the 21st century, wearing jeans and practising serial monogamy.

"Stop it, Ianto Jones," she said sleepily, "You're creeping me out."

"Akiko Jay, Thomas Tahabita. Ianto Jones."

Ianto's eyes snapped open and he sat up as he heard Mitsue Jackson's voice. Their tutor was standing in front of them, wearing her full uniform despite the heat. The three of them made as if to get up and stand to attention, but Mitsue Jackson shook her head.

"At ease, cadets," she said and it suddenly occurred to Ianto that she was just as old as he himself was. "Have you received the latest interlink message?"

"Message?" Thomas Tahabita asked.

"It was sent out an hour ago."

"Nope. Sorry," the young man answered, sounding singularly unconcerned. He relied on Akiko Jay and Ianto for relaying messages and dragging him along to the right lectures. Thomas Tahabita was the only person Ianto knew in the 51st century who still managed to forget to wear his wristband at all times, and he'd been severely reprimanded for that slip more than once, as well as arrested on one particularly memorable occasion.

"The presence of all cadets is required tomorrow at noon in the main courtyard to witness the memory revocation of a former Time Agent. The event is to be considered as a reminder, and a warning, of what happens when you break the rules big time."

"Why, what did they do?" Thomas Tahabita asked, curiosity peaked.

"He," Mitsue Jackson replied, stressing the word, "broke the rules."

"But why is it a public event? The public frowns on memory revocation, this means bad press for the Time Agency, surely?" Akiko Jay asked.

"It was the decision of the Management. I'm warning you now, attendance will be monitored. There are also... rumours, if you will, of a high-ranking Torchwood delegate being sent to witness the revocation."

Mitsue Jackson's eyes flickered over Ianto's still form and all of a sudden he felt cold despite the heat.

"The Time Agent in question will be brought to Obaida shortly and will be detained overnight in temporal stasis. Attendance of the stasis process is non-compulsory, but it might let you gain insight into contemporary detaining techniques. Good afternoon, cadets."

She nodded at them before turning around and leaving the park in direction of the main college building.

Thomas Tahabita groaned and sat up.

"Great," he said. "So instead of bumming around we get to watch some crazy bastard being put into temporal stasis. 'Might let you gain insight', my ass. You just know that old Nayedo Teapau will growl at you for the next two weeks if we pull a no-show. And what's with the public memory revocation, anyway?"

"It's about humiliation, I suppose," Ianto said absently. "There will be several hundred people. I imagine that a mild feeling of shame and mortification wouldn't go amiss in this situation."

"Yeah, sure, but it's all a bit pointless, isn't it?" Akiko Jay said, straightening out her uniform jacket and putting it on with a grimace. "It's not as if the guy's going to remember it."

Thomas Tahabita snorted and the three of them made their way towards the Obaida Security Centre, a building Ianto usually took care to avoid.

There was already a small crowd gathered as they entered the large entrance hall. There were some administrative staff, here during an extended lunch break. There were cadets like Ianto himself, looking curious and nervous at once. And there were fully trained field Time Agents, their silver insignia making them stand out from the rest of them as if they'd been wearing brightly-coloured party hats. It wasn't often that Time Agents mixed with the rest of the personnel on Obaida and Ianto surreptitiously observed their impassive faces and carefully neutral postures.

There was a hush in the air, a sort of expectancy that set Ianto's teeth on edge.

They were told to clear the centre of the hall when a clear, computer-generated voice range out, "Long distance teleport incoming. Incoming, three, two, one -"

Three figures materialised, all clad in Time Agency uniforms. Two of them were supporting the third, a man half-kneeling between them, gripping him by the arms. A beam of bright sunlight shone in through the transparent roof top, falling square on the Time Agents and their prisoner. For a moment Ianto was reminded of a sort of spiritual apparition. He blinked, and the prisoner was roughly dragged to his feet, his head tipping back and breaking the tableau.

Ianto felt a rush of air leaving his lungs. Clutching his fists, he half hid behind Akiko Jay and became aware that somehow he'd _known_.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he said quietly. "Welcome to the 51st century."

- 35 -

Ianto gently disentangled himself from Thomas Tahabita's arms slung around him and began dressing noiselessly, not even bothering to switch on the lights. He'd just made sure that he'd got his sonic screwdriver when Akiko Jay's sleepy voice rasped out, "Ianto Jones? What are you doing?"

He leaned over the bed and she drowsily blinked up at him, the whites of her eyes in stark contrast to the shadows on her face. Ianto smiled at her, secure in the knowledge that she couldn't see his expression.

"Go back to sleep," he told her. "There's something I need to do."

"What, in the middle of the night? It's not one of your half-baked schemes again, is it?"

"My schemes are never half-baked," Ianto retorted without missing a beat, hoping to distract his lover with banter. He could already tell, however, that this strategy wasn't going to work this time, because she now sat up, the blanket covering her slipping down her shoulders.

"Tell me," she said.

"I can't."

"Is it about that Time Agent they brought in today? You've been funny ever since. Do you know him?"

"In a way," Ianto admitted. "It's complicated."

"Then tell me! Ianto Jones, I don't even know who you are! And that's fine, I totally get your obsession with secrecy, but for once in your life, be honest with me."

Ianto sat down on the bed and grasped for Akiko Jay's hand in the darkness. He squeezed it and she interlaced her fingers with his.

"You're right. I know him, but he doesn't know me. Not yet."

"You know a future him? How?"

"Well, actually, he used to be my boss."

Akiko Jay snorted. "And you want to go and see him? It's not like he'll remember."

"Exactly. I just – It's something I have to do. Thomas Tahabita would call it an urge to satisfy my morbid curiosity."

"Well, I call it you being a crazy bastard. You're a cadet, do you really think they'll just let you walk into their stasis cells to spring him?"

"You don't understand," Ianto said. "I have no intention of freeing him. I just need to talk to him."

"As I said, crazy bastard." Akiko Jay sighed. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," Ianto replied swiftly. "I wouldn't want you caught up in this. And it shouldn't take long, I'll be back before you know it."

"You're driving me mad, you know that? You always seem to be waiting for something, it's like you're never really here. Except for now. Is this the real you, Ianto Jones?"

Ianto rose from the bed and took a step towards the door without answering her question. Akiko Jay made a soft noise of frustration, but before he could leave her behind, she called out, "Good luck!"

"Take care of yourself," Ianto replied and wondered why this exchange felt so much like an unspoken goodbye.

He left Leydlun College. As soon as the building was behind him he switched off the nanites in his uniform as well as his wristband. Right now, he was a non-person, someone without a valid ID. He'd ceased to exist on the central system, if only temporarily. There was a time window of about half an hour now until security would be notified of his disappearance; he had to hurry.

Ianto started running towards the Obaida Security Centre and found the side entrance he'd made out on a detailed – and probably illegal – map of Obaida he'd found earlier that day, deeply hidden within the network. It fleetingly occurred to him that Tosh would be proud of him for successfully snooping around in highly classified systems. He opened the door with his sonic screwdriver and stepped inside. The corridor he found himself in was brightly illuminated. The Security Centre never slept. It operated on a skeleton staff at night, but that only lowered the probability of his being detected, it didn't erase it. If that happened, chances were high that he'd find himself in a cell right next to Jack, awaiting memory revocation without a trial.

Making his way down the corridor, Ianto desperately wished that he could use his wristband to scan his surroundings. Switching it on would be like sending out a detection beacon, however, and he'd be surrounded by security guards within seconds. No, he was on his own here, with nothing to rely on but luck and a sonic screwdriver. The Time Agency frowned on the usage of external weapons and tools, but they'd let his screwdriver pass without comment, deeming it too primitive to be considered a hazard or potential threat. They couldn't know that it had been built by a hyperactive Time Lord and therefore had a few special features they couldn't even begin to guess at.

Ianto reached the entrance hall and stopped there, hesitating. The problem was that the stasis cells were not only underground but also without access to the outer world. There were no stairs, there was no lift, only a large teleportation field leading to this very entrance hall. The Time Agency made sure that even if a prisoner escaped from their cell, there was no way they would be able to get to the surface on their own.

He couldn't teleport on his own, not without his wristband. He also didn't know where the cells were actually located. They could be anywhere on the planet. No, he had to hope that his sonic screwdriver would be able to pick up traces of an earlier teleportation process and repeat the sequence by enhancing the signal.

The entrance hall was deserted, and Ianto figured that now was as good a time as any. He'd already wasted precious minutes and his absence would be noted soon.

He forced himself to cross the hall calmly and to keep an indifferent expression on his face. If he could only project confidence and make it seem like he belonged here, then maybe any security guards wouldn't be so quick to notice the lack of insignia on his uniform. Scanning for a recent teleportation signal, Ianto nearly dropped the sonic screwdriver when he heard voices approaching, chatting and laughing softly. He fixed the next signal he could find, never mind that it was quite weak, and pressed the activation button just as two Time Agents entered the hall. Ianto thought that he recognised them as the man and the woman who had brought Jack in, had gripped his arms with their faces blank and their eyes void of emotion.

The sonic screwdriver emitted a sound that sounded suspiciously like a gurgle and Ianto teleported away just as the two Time Agents became aware of his presence. They shimmered before his eyes, faded away in a haze of blue, and Ianto stumbled as he materialised in a dimly lit room. He stretched out his hands and touched the nearest wall to keep himself from falling.

His stomach rolled threateningly and a splitting headache made him feel dizzy. The signal he'd hitchhiked had been too weak, and the teleportation sequence had been too slow and too rough. From his lectures Ianto remembered that he was probably suffering from teleportation sickness, a condition that could be fatal under certain circumstances. The good thing was that his signal sequence would be spread thinly through the network and thus hard to trace.

"Are you all right?" a familiar voice rang out, followed by, "Not that I particularly care, see. Still, I'm sure it would reflect badly on me if they find a corpse outside my cell tomorrow, even someone as hot as you."

Ianto turned around, away from the wall, and found himself face-to-face with Captain Jack Harkness, a nearly transparent photon barrier the only thing separating them. Jack was watching him intently, a cocky half-smile on his face. Ianto pressed a hand against his stomach to prevent himself from throwing up.

"Jack," he pressed out between clenched teeth. "Sir."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're feeling all right? The room service is a bit lacking, but I'm reasonably certain that if I shout long enough someone will come."

"I'd rather you didn't, if it's all the same to you," Ianto said. "I'm here in a somewhat unofficial capacity."

"Stating the obvious," Jack replied dryly. "Your lack of insignia was a bit of a give-away. Are you here to free me?"

Ianto shook his head and decided to let dignity be for the moment. He sat down against the wall opposite Jack's cell, his hands clutching his knees, sonic screwdriver lying in easy reach next to him.

"I'm sorry. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. You're in temporal stasis. Right now you don't even exist in linear time. If I dissolved the photon barrier you'd simply cease to exist."

"Yeah. I know."

Jack remained standing, looking down at Ianto with an intensity that made him want to fidget.

"Why are you here?" he asked finally.

"I don't really know," Ianto admitted. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

"That's not good enough. Come on, give me the real reason in that cute accent of yours."

Ianto's lips quirked up in an involuntary smile. This man wasn't Jack, not yet, and still... Anyway, he wouldn't remember this come morning.

"I know you," Ianto said. "Or rather, I used to know you."

"Hang on, are you saying you're from my personal future?"

"I suppose I am. Yes."

Ianto expected more questions, but Jack leered suggestively at him instead. "Define 'know me'?"

"In the biblical sense of the word," Ianto said and smiled at Jack's blank expression. Of course Jack wouldn't understand the reference, having grown up in a completely religion-free environment. He remembered Jack's comments about the randomness of human existence. It made him wonder how the other man had coped with being stuck in a time that essentially amounted to be a cultural Stone Age for him.

"For a while I thought we knew each other well," Ianto explained. "But that was a long time ago, for me. For you it'll be even longer."

"So that's it?" Jack asked. "No dashing rescues? No last-minute escape?"

"I'm sorry."

"I can't believe that they'll go through with this. How can they – this is my life!"

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you do to merit a years-long memory revocation?"

"You don't know? I thought every Time Agent this side of the Milky Way would know by now."

"I'm not exactly a Time Agent. Not yet."

"A cadet," Jack muttered. "This is getting better and better. Basically – Well, damn. I got sent undercover. I screwed up. The Time Agency can't admit that I was on a mission for them so they're punishing me for breaking the Time Codex."

"What - ?"

"I got sent to the future, all right?"

"But..." Ianto trailed off. "Time Agents are forbidden from going forward in linear time."

"Yeah."

"So, how did you end up here?"

"Does it matter?" Jack asked bitterly. "Tomorrow I'll wake up in some dump in the middle of the City of Tokyo and wonder how the hell I got there, no friends, no ID, nothing. I'll think I'm a criminal. Something to look forward to, let me tell you, but not before they humiliate me publicly."

"Jack -" Ianto said.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" the other man asked. "Don't you know it's rude to only use a single name? And anyway, my name's -"

"Don't," Ianto interrupted him swiftly. "I don't want to know. Captain Jack Harkness, that's how I know you."

"Fair enough." Jack shrugged. "Still, doesn't it strike you as odd that I won't tell you my real name? Seems to me that won't now each other that well after all."

Ianto swallowed. The nausea had subsided marginally, but his headache was steadily getting worse. He was suffering from dehydration, and if he didn't rest soon he was likely to lose consciousness. Jack's remark had hit a little bit too close to home for his comfort and Ianto found that it still hurt, even after more than a year after their last kiss in the middle of the Hub.

"It's complicated."

"I bet it is. Still, at least I'll go out with a bang. All staff, all cadets, every available Time Agent... They told me that even the famed Captain of Torchwood might put in an appearance."

"What?" Ianto's head snapped up.

"Strange, that," Jack mused, crossing his arms. "I mean, I know that my devastatingly good looks are famed throughout the universe, but nobody's even seen the guy for centuries. Security will be wetting themselves. Bastards."

"But..."

If the Captain really was Jack himself, how could he attend his own memory revocation? He wouldn't necessarily create a paradox because Jack was a fixed point in time and space – he belonged everywhere and nowhere at once – but it would be singularly foolish to show up looking only slightly older than the man he'd used to be more than three thousand years ago. However, if the Captain really came, then maybe that was the chance that Ianto had been waiting for.

"Will you be there?" Jack asked, crouching down and coming to eye-level with Ianto. He seemed smaller all of a sudden, a lot more human and vulnerable than Ianto had ever seen him. Then again, he was only a couple of years older than Ianto himself. Jack was lacking the hardness that Ianto remembered, had none of the absolute need for secrecy, no sense of always waiting for _something_. This Jack was spending his last night with Ianto, waiting for the dawn and certain in the knowledge that he was never going to be the same again.

"I'll have to be," Ianto said. "Strict orders from the Management."

"Yeah, but will you _be_ there?" Jack insisted. "You'll be the only one to know... to know that I've committed no crime."

"I will be there," Ianto replied, "I can promise if you want me to."

"Yes."

"In that case – I promise I'll be there, sir, one way or another."

"You know, that's really sexy, you calling me 'sir'..." Jack laughed, but Ianto had stopped listening to him. The skin on his whole body felt clammy and uncomfortably tight, except where warmth was spreading across his chest.

And he knew at once that he wouldn't be able to keep the promise given so seriously just a moment before.

Ianto pulled out the TARDIS key on its leather band and watched it pulsate with light, the glow of it making his eyes hurt. He groped for his sonic screwdriver and pushed himself to stand upright.

"I have to go now," he said dizzily. "I'm sorry."

"But hey, we've barely gotten started..." There was a hint of desperation in Jack's voice that Ianto chose to ignore.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He started scanning for a teleportation trace. He needed a stronger signal if he didn't want to slip into a transcendental coma this time. Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain hammering through his skull, Ianto could barely make out Jack's blurred from. The other man had stood up and was pushing against the photon barrier.

"Don't do that," Ianto ground out. "You'll hurt yourself."

"But you haven't even told me your name!" Jack called out. But at that moment Ianto had finally found a sufficiently strong signal and activated the teleportation sequence. Jack's body became an unidentifiable black shape, the paleness of his face the last thing to disappear as Ianto dematerialised.

He landed on his knees in the entrance hall, panting harshly. Ianto doubted that he would have the strength to stand up on his own, let alone leave the building and make a run for the underground train station, all the while avoiding security guards.

trong hands grasped him by the shoulders and pulled him upwards. In a haze of dreamy fascination, Ianto made out dark fingers. He swayed on his feet.

"Ianto Jones," Mitsue Jackson said. "You fool. I thought I'd trained you better than that. Severe case of teleportation sickness, how inconvenient."

"I'm sorry..." Ianto whispered and closed his eyes. His tutor shook him.

"Don't you dare!" she snapped. "Here..."

She grabbed Ianto's wrist and activated his wristband, punching in a string of commands.

"This will take you where you need to be. It'll bypass the teleportation barriers, but it'll be a rough ride."

"Why are you doing this?" Ianto murmured. The TARDIS key was glowing in his hand, the only thing keeping him tied to consciousness right now.

"Because I made a promise," Mitsue Jackson said. "Just like you have. And it's time for me to change careers anyway. Take care, Ianto Jones."

"No, wait -" Ianto tried to stop her from connecting his wristband to the network as the shrill siren of the intruder alarm went off throughout the whole building, the sound seeming to reverberate through his body. Mitsue Jackson smiled at him and pressed a kiss against his lips.

"Go," she commanded and Ianto was caught in another teleportation sequence, spinning out of existence and nearly fainting, flashes of light exploding in front of his eyes. The key anchored him and gave him a purpose to cling on to. A flash of memory appeared, of being thrown through the air and landing in the Hub pool with a sickening thud. There was blackness, and Lisa's face, and warm lips pressing against his cold ones.

Ianto was kneeling in the alleyway and the TARDIS materialised right in front of him. The blue wood was reassuringly solid beneath his finger tips and he clawed at the door, fumbling the key into the Yale lock and turning it. The door opened inwards and he stumbled inside, the metal grid clanking beneath his feet.

"Ianto? Christ, Ianto!"

This was the Doctor's voice. This was the TARDIS and he'd made it, he'd really made it after all.

"Ianto, what's wrong? Look, I reversed the TARDIS as fast as I could, it's only been a couple of seconds, but what – What's happened to you?"

The golds and greens of the console room swam in front of Ianto's eyes, mixing with the black of the uniform Jack had worn and the brown of Mitsue Jackson's hands as they'd helped him to stand up.

"Doesn't matter," Ianto said softly. "Please, Doctor. Take her away. Take the TARDIS away from here."

The Doctor was kneeling next to Ianto now, touching his numb face with cool hands.

"But you're hurt. You're -"

"Please, Doctor."

The Time Lord obeyed reluctantly, activating the console. The typical grinding noise filled the room, filled Ianto's ears and thrummed through his mind. He thought he could feel the ship spinning through the time vortex, leaving linearity and Jack behind forever, and the floor grid pressed on his face as he finally gave in to unconsciousness.


	10. Parts 36 to 40

- 36 -

There was light in his room when Ianto woke up and he lay in his bed for long minutes, studying the coral pattern on the ceiling and trying to clear his mind. He checked the emphatic clock on the nightstand that only marked the passing of time in relative terms. It informed Ianto that he'd slept for almost twelve hours, nearly half a day spent in deep and dreamless sleep.

His limbs felt heavy and his eyes gritty. Ianto groped for the tablets lying next to the clock, the ones the Doctor had given him to fight off his lingering teleportation sickness. Even after three days of unconsciousness and another three days spent in bed, Ianto was still overtaken by spells of dizziness every so often. The world would spin around him, its colours gaining intensity and pulsating with every single beat of his heart. The Doctor had assured him that this would wear off with time, but Ianto found the temporary loss of control irritating and disconcerting.

He slept a lot.

After taking a long shower and getting dressed – back to jeans and tee shirts again – Ianto joined the Doctor in the console room, where the Time Lord wasn't even pretending to tinker with his ship's machinery. He was sitting on the jump seat, feet up on the console and arms spread out along the back of the seat, eyes closed. It was obvious that he'd been waiting for Ianto.

"Doctor," Ianto greeted him, coming to stand behind him.

"Mr Ianto Jones!" There was a smile in the Doctor's voice as he tipped back his head and looked up at him from upside down, his dark face shining with relief.

"Feeling better?"

"I'm fine now, thank you."

"Except for when your knees turn to jelly and you have to sit down quite suddenly?"

The Doctor shrugged at seeing Ianto's slight frown. "Teleportation sickness is common in the universe. Most species get around to inventing teleportation sooner or later if they don't blow themselves up first, and all of them get it a bit wrong. Your symptoms are typical. You'll be hit by the occasional spell of weakness for the next few months and you'll need a lot of sleep, maybe ten, twelve hours per night? After that you'll be right as rain!"

"Months," Ianto repeated, sounding decidedly unimpressed. "Is there nothing to speed up the process?"

"Nope," the Doctor answered. "You were lucky, anyway, to find me when you did. You were in quite a state! Most people in your case would have slipped into a coma."

"I'm sorry," Ianto said, sitting next to the Time Lord on the jump seat. The Doctor immediately took his hand and squeezed it lightly.

"Nothing to be sorry for. If anything it was my fault for not getting those temporal stabilisers fixed sooner. I'll do it now, I promise! We've only got to go and pick up some spare parts from Argos."

"The shop?"

"The planet. The year five hundred thousand, give or take a few decades."

"You know, Doctor," Ianto said, "when I was stuck there... When I thought that you'd come back for the first time, I wanted nothing more than to go home."

The Doctor flashed him a quick glance and then stared at the floor quite resolutely.

"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh. It's like that."

"I felt... I can't describe this to you. I was out of place and out of time. And I couldn't tell anyone. Not Akiko Jay, not Thomas Tahabita. All I wanted was to go back. But I couldn't."

"And now you can."

Ianto inclined his head. "This life, it was difficult," he confessed. "And I kept thinking about you, and Jack and how both of us always seem to be waiting for you. And then I met Jack, well, I met a past version of him."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't know how," Ianto said. "It's fine, he won't remember. It was the night before his memory revocation. And he was so... He was Jack, except not. I promised I'd be there, at the memory revocation, but I broke that promise without a second thought when it mattered. I just ran, figuratively speaking, and clung to the TARDIS."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"I think so. Yes," Ianto admitted. "I do."

"I can't bring you back there. You deserted from the Time Agency. They'd arrest you on sight."

"I know. I know."

Ianto leaned forward and avoided looking at the Doctor. He studied the console instead, the levers and handles and the Gallifreyan writing on the screen. The circles kept turning, changing, spinning clockwise and creating patterns out of nothing. If he squinted hard enough, he could almost believe that he could understand them, these coordinates within the time vortex.

"So," the Doctor said carefully. "You want to go home?"

"I want to go where I belong," Ianto replied. "And at the moment I can't be sure where that is anymore. If I went back now, I wouldn't belong there."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not time. Not yet."

- 37 -

"Carry these for me, will you? You can go back to the TARDIS if you like, this may take a while."

The Doctor dumped a huge cardboard box containing several temporal stabilisers resembling very shiny exhaust pipes into Ianto's waiting arms. Then he went right back to nagging the frazzled-looking shop assistant about temporally stable nuts and bolts as well as five-dimensional laser interferometers.

Ianto hefted the surprisingly light box under one arm and wandered out of the shop across the parking lot, towards where the Doctor had parked the TARDIS. Leaning the box against the ship, he fumbled for his keys in the pockets of his jeans and breathed a sigh of relief when the doors opened.

Glancing at the wristband form the 51st century he'd carried on wearing, Ianto saw that it was nearly time for lunch. He idly wondered what to make and whether the Doctor would fancy fish and chips for dinner.

Then a dawning realisation began to sink in. Ianto stood quite still, trying out the long-forgotten feeling like a new coat worn for the very first time. This was what he'd been missing in the 51st century: shopping with the Doctor and fixing the TARDIS, thinking about meals and spare parts and where to travel next.

"Is this Gallifreyan domesticity?" he asked the TARDIS aloud. Of course, the ship did not answer, but Ianto went on to unpack the new stabilisers with a smile on his face.

- 38 -

The ringing of a loud bell distracted Ianto from the book he'd been reading – _A Very Short Introduction to Chameleon Circuits & Perception Filters_ – and he looked up at the Doctor. The Time Lord was studying the console screen, watching the symbols change and slowly turn mauve.

"It's mauve!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Oh dear. That's never good."

"Is it the TARDIS? Those dampers you've put on her dimensional projector not working properly?"

"No, no, no, that's not the TARDIS. That's a distress signal calling for help. And it's mauve," the Doctor said again.

"So it's serious," Ianto said, "Can you trace it?"

"Oh, yes!" the Doctor replied, entering some commands on the keyboard. "It's a stationary signal, both in time and space, it shouldn't be too hard... And there you go! May 19th, 2321, originating from – Obaida, in Tokyo."

"Obaida?" Ianto asked, a prickle of unease running down his spine. "Is it the Time Agency?"

"Nah!" the Doctor said. "The Time Agency won't be founded for another 2,500 years. Didn't you pay attention in your history lectures?"

"It's still quite a coincidence."

"Nonsense! That's like saying that... Well, I can't think of a good example right now, but you get my point. Mr Ianto Jones, are you ready?"

The Doctor grinned at him and then zipped around the console, changing the set course to Obaida. He grabbed his jacket off the jump seat and stuck a defiant tongue out at Ianto, who frowned at seeing numerous stains and a good-sized tear in the white leather.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ianto said, closing the book and joining the Doctor at the console. The TARDIS materialised with nary a bump – the stabilisers and dampers all seemed to be working to perfection for once. It was only fair enough, Ianto supposed, since they'd spent the last month drifting idly through the time vortex, stopping only to stock up on spare parts and food.

The left the TARDIS at the same time. Ianto was taking great care these days not to leave the TARDIS before the Doctor did, ever. They emerged into darkness. The doors behind them snapped shut and the Doctor just had time for a confused, "What...?" when Ianto could hear the unmistakable sounds of guns being loaded.

And suddenly there was light, dim, reddish light that revealed a nightmarish vision to Ianto. They were surrounded by half a dozen masked aliens, all of them armed to the teeth. Ianto didn't recognise their species. They were tall and lithe, their orange skin appearing to be paper-thin and their long white hair looking ethereal. Despite the black masks covering their faces, Ianto knew that were beautiful, beautiful like the fairies had been, and just as terrifying.

"Which one of you is the Doctor?" one of the aliens asked, stepping forward. Its voice was melodious and crystal clear, a slight British accent tinting its otherwise flawless Welsh.

"Now, look here," the Doctor said, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I'm sure this is a misunderstanding."

"The First asked you a question," another alien said softly, but the underlying tone of steel was evident. "It's only polite to answer it."

"I'm the Doctor," the Time Lord admitted reluctantly.

"Separate them," the alien called the First ordered curtly.

"No!" Ianto cried out as he was grabbed by the arms. The Doctor had materialised the TARDIS in a long corridor, and now two aliens started dragging Ianto in one direction while the Doctor was taken no less gently in the other one.

"Doctor!" he yelled and then groaned as one of the aliens jabbed their gun sharply into his kidney. Ianto's knees buckled.

"You will not speak," the alien said, never raising its voice above the volume of a polite murmur, "unless you are spoken to."

"Then tell me what's going on here!" Ianto snapped back.

A second blow to his other kidney was the only reaction and this time the pain was so strong as to make his eyes water. Ianto cried out and nearly feel, but he was held up by the other alien who had remained silent.

"Fourth," the one who'd spoken to Ianto said. "Bring him to the female. They're the only ones who might be of use. I will go and join the two doctors. Time is running out."

"As you wish, Third," the alien replied deferentially. Ianto coughed as he was dragged down corridor after corridor. The same dim, red light was everywhere, reminding Ianto of the emergency lighting at the Hub in lockdown. There were no windows, no natural light, only the occasional closed door that the alien passed by without a second glance. There was silence, apart from the muffled sounds of their footsteps. Ianto guessed that they had to be underground. They were below Obaida, below the sea, cut off from any sort of escape route to the surface, just like Jack had been in that cell, pushing against the photon barrier.

They entered yet another corridor where the air smelled damp and slightly rotten, the red lights on the ceiling covered in water droplets. It ended in a set of vaulted double doors and Ianto felt himself growing weak at the sight of it, either from the after effects of his teleportation sickness or from memories of a very similar corridor and what had been hidden behind the doors.

The clanking sounds of a Cyberman's steps echoed through his mind as the alien opened the door and pushed him inside. Ianto whirled around and threw himself at the door just as it banged shut. He allowed himself to hammer at it nevertheless and then leaned against it, cursing the fact that he'd left his sonic screwdriver in the TARDIS because the Doctor was always carrying his.

"Shit," he whispered hoarsely.

"Ianto?" a voice asked from the back of the room.

Ianto turned around and then blinked rapidly, as if to make sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him. But no, the woman was still standing there, black hair in disarray and hands clasped in front of her mouth.

"Tosh," he said. "Tosh!"

He crossed the room in long strides and put a hand on her shoulder, touching the crisp fabric of her white blouse and feeling the warmth of her body beneath it. Toshiko was still staring at him out of wide eyes, eyes belonging to a face that was unchanged form the last time Ianto had seen her, going home after that pointless trip abroad.

"Ianto," she whispered, "But how...? We only sent the signal out half an hour ago. You're supposed to be in Cardiff and not even you can travel that quickly!"

Toshiko sank down to the floor, her back against the damp wall. She kept staring at him warily as if she expected him to disappear all of a sudden, or to change into something – someone – different altogether.

Ianto kneeled down in front of her, uncaring of the water from the ground soaking the thick fabric of his jeans.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Why are you in Japan? Assuming this really is Obaida and the Doctor hasn't landed us somewhere dodgy like last week. He seems to have got the year wrong already."

"Doctor?" Tosh frowned. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly she gasped and made a grab for his left hand. Startled, Ianto didn't resist and Tosh examined it closely, stroking the skin of his palm. A shiver ran down Ianto's spine. The touch lacked any sexual connotations whatsoever. However, it was infused with gentleness and care, and that was something he'd grown to miss after sharing a bed with Akiko Jay and Thomas Tahabita for months. The Doctor touched him, of course he did, but that happened in a subconscious and rather random manner. This was deliberate. This was slow, and this was Tosh, who very nearly was his friend and who he hadn't seen in a year and a half.

"You're still travelling with the Doctor," Tosh said quietly, "I though you were... Never mind." She let go of his hand and Ianto felt the loss of warmth keenly.

"You still haven't told me what's going on, Tosh," he reminded her.

"You're right. I haven't."

"Before I ask you how you know that I'm with the Doctor, why are you locked up?"

"Because the Vorticevores locked me in here, just as they did with you."

"That's an answer worthy of Jack in terms of carrying zero information," Ianto said dryly.

Tosh sighed. "We were working on one of my experiments," she said with obvious reluctance. "I've recently started to look into time travel and I know that most species use the time vortex for leaving linear time. I designed equipment to detect the time vortex and to open it for a short while to take readings. It worked, but something slipped through when we weren't looking. Turns out that the vortex is inhabited."

"The Vorticevores?" Ianto guessed and Tosh nodded.

"They live in the time vortex. We think that they may have been banished there, but we can't be sure. They don't have bodies. Their corporeal forms are made of pure energy taken from the vortex, but they can't hold on to those forever. They're dying, one by one."

"It looks like the problem might solve itself eventually in that case," Ianto suggested.

Tosh shook her head. "But we can't be sure of that. It's been two days. They tried going back into the vortex, but we couldn't open it again. They grew angry. They killed..." She swallowed. "Well, they killed a lot of the team," she said briskly, her voice sounding empty.

"So how did you send out that signal?"

"They made me do it," Tosh whispered. "They want the Doctor and the TARDIS. He knows how to control the vortex well enough to send them back, or so they think. I swear, Ianto, I didn't want to do it, but they threatened to kill Owen and I couldn't. I couldn't not do it."

"Owen's here?"

Tosh nodded. "He's working with me. Took a temporary leave from Torchwood Six... I shouldn't be telling you this."

"There isn't a Torchwood Six," Ianto said, but Tosh avoided looking him in the eyes now. For one panic-stricken moment Ianto was tempted to shake the answers out of her, to grab her by the shoulders and make her talk until he knew everything. He had to visibly restrain himself and inched away from her, putting a safe distance between them.

"Tosh," he said, "What year is it?"

"I can't tell you," the woman said softly. "I'm sorry."

Ianto lost his temper then. "You can't tell me? You can't tell me. For... Damn it, we're both locked up by aliens who want to get their hands on the Doctor and they've already got him! I don't even know where I am, let alone when, and you -! I haven't seen you in months and you haven't changed, but there's something about you... Like you're wrong. You're wrong!"

"That's what he said," Tosh whispered.

"Who?"

Tosh wouldn't answer. Ianto stood up abruptly and started pacing round the cell, running a hand through his hair. "Who, Tosh?" he asked again, and the tone of his voice made it clear that he wouldn't accept anything less than a proper answer this time.

"Jack!" Tosh shot back heatedly. "It was Jack. He told us we were almost as wrong as him. It was an accident, and we were standing too close. Except for Gwen. She was... Well."

She laughed bitterly, the sound ringing harshly through the cell. There was a hint of desperation in that laugh, and hysteria that had been absent even when they'd both been captured by cannibals.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said quietly.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. You were the one standing closest to it. You're going to have half an eternity for regrets. God, I really shouldn't be telling you this."

"But -"

"It's the year 2321, Ianto," Tosh said. "The Doctor didn't get the date wrong. I haven't aged much since those days at the Hub, have I? We could all give Jack a run for his money, except now I'm quite likely to die after all."

"You're scaring me," Ianto whispered.

"Good!" Tosh flashed. "You shouldn't be here! This is wrong, if you die now -"

"Toshiko -"

But Ianto was interrupted by the lights flickering all of a sudden, and an alarm going off, a siren sounding in the distance. Tosh jumped to her feet.

"That's the intruder alarm," she said agitatedly. "Maybe... Maybe we'll be fine. I managed to send messages to Torchwood, to Jack and you, and I think the Vorticevores didn't notice!"

"I thought I'm in Cardiff?"

Footsteps approached and both Ianto and Tosh stood absolutely still. The double doors were thrown wide open. But this wasn't the rescue party they'd both hoped for. There were five Vorticevores instead, masks firmly in place and guns at the ready.

"You will tell us where the Doctor is," one of them commanded, turning towards Ianto. "You are the companion."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ianto replied, balling his hand into fists.

"The Doctor and the human doctor have escaped. You will tell us where they are."

"There's no way I could possibly know that," Ianto said. "You had me locked up after all."

One of the Vorticevores stepped forward and grabbed Ianto by the throat. The alien squeezed, and Ianto started coughing and wheezing, stars exploding in front of his eyes.

"You will tell us where the Doctor is."

"Stop it, you're hurting him!" Tosh cried out. She made as if to launch herself bodily at the Vorticevore holding Ianto captive, but was quickly detained by two more aliens.

"I don't know!" Ianto pressed out painfully.

The alien released its grip and Ianto sagged.

"We should bring them to the First," it said and the other Vorticevore inclined their heads in agreement.

Ianto and Toshiko were both taken by the arms again and marched down the corridors. Ianto tried to keep track of the way they were going, but all the corridors seemed to be identical to each other and he soon got lost. The sound of the intruder alarm grew fainter and eventually stopped. They reached a non-descript grey door. The aliens opened it and pushed them through.

Ianto took in the scene before him: they were standing in a sort of laboratory, with computer screens and large machinery everywhere. The room was bathed in blue light, with the equipment seeming to swallow it instead of reflecting light back. There was a large free space in the middle of the room where a metal ring had been worked into the ground. The TARDIS was standing right at its centre, surrounded by half a dozen Vorticevores, their orange skin and white hair in stark contrast to their surroundings.

"First," one of the Vorticevores whispered. "I've brought you the female and the companion. He claims to not knowing where the Doctor is."

"That is unacceptable," the First said softly. "The ship is useless to us without the knowledge that the Time Lord possesses. We cannot enter. We cannot make it yield. And the Doctor has escaped."

A Vorticevore shoved Ianto forward towards the TARDIS. The First stepped directly in front of him and Ianto could feel the coldness emanating from the alien. The mask that hid its face did not conceal its eyes. There was no iris, there was no pupil. There was only a mad swirling of red and blue, intertwining chaotically. Ianto recalled the time he'd opened the TARDIS door, when the Doctor had just regenerated and lain unconscious next to the console. Back then, so many months ago, he'd been terrified by the sight of the raw time vortex, and the feeling was no less intense now that he saw it contained within a living creature.

"You are the companion," the First said. "You will tell us how to open the TARDIS."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Ianto said apologetically, as if he were simply informing disappointed tourists that getting tickets for the sold out Rugby match would be impossible.

"You do not know how to open the TARDIS."

"I won't tell you," Ianto replied firmly.

"In that case we will have to convince you."

The First nodded towards three more Vorticevores and they stepped behind Ianto. They pushed him to the ground and he fell, landing on his hands and knees. The air was driven from his lungs and he could hear Tosh's loud exclamation of, "Ianto!"

He tried to turn around and look at Tosh, to reassure her that everything would be fine, but he was being held down now, his left arm grabbed and stretched out next to him.

"Ianto, no!"

A thud, and then Tosh's groan of pain told Ianto what happened, as well as the quiet admonishment, "The female will be silent now."

The First crouched down in front of Ianto. "The companion will tell me how to open the TARDIS."

"I won't," Ianto snapped back. "Did it never occur to you to simply ask the Doctor for his help instead of killing people and trying to take him captive?"

"The companion will be punished now."

Ianto shut his eyes instinctively. Somebody took his left hand and arranged it so it was splayed on the ground. He tried to struggle, tried to scramble away, but it was as if he were paralysed. He couldn't move, couldn't see. He could only hear the soft rustle of cloth, and air moving as something heavy was swung downwards, towards him, towards his arm, his hand -

And then, a scream. There was a sickening crunch, and somebody screamed. It might have been him, it might have been Tosh. It might have been Lisa, her smiling face swimming in front of his eyes, only to be replaced by Jack's frowning one.

Ianto tried to reach out to the other man. He wanted to touch his face and trace his eyebrows. He wanted to kiss Jack because he'd missed him and he'd only realised it just now. But he couldn't move, especially not his hand.

There was pain, and there was numbness. There were Toshiko's desperate sobs in the distance, and then there was nothing.

- 39 -

Ianto didn't wake up fully for a long time. To be honest, there was a part of him that didn't really want to, anyway. He still felt weak after his recent illness, still tired, and the darkness seemed to promise respite and rest.

The next thing he knew were the sounds of gunfire and somebody – Tosh? - cradling his body in their arms. There was wetness on his face, somebody's tears, but probably not his own. He was too far gone to cry, and much too tired.

"Ianto!"

And that was the Doctor's voice, Ianto was sure of it. There was a cacophony of voices, all mixing together: the Doctor and Toshiko, Owen and -

"Jack?" Ianto whispered.

Someone was kneeling next to him and enveloping him in careful arms. Ianto tried to open his eyes, to see through the red film covering everything, but he couldn't make out anything. He was lying against somebody's chest, scratchy wool tickling his cheek and surrounded by familiar smell of warmth and timelessness that he recognised despite the agony tearing through his body.

"Jack."

There were lips covering his mouth. A soothing glow started to spread through Ianto's belly. It wasn't really a kiss, not a proper one anyway, and he couldn't quite tell whether he was dreaming or not.

"Come back to me," a voice whispered in his ear and now Ianto was really struggling against the exhaustion and pain keeping him tied to this frustrating state of semi-consciousness.

"That's enough now, Harkness." Owen's voice rang out annoyingly clearly. "He needs rest, not you molesting him in his sleep."

"I'm sure he doesn't mind," Jack answered, but he obviously retreated. Ianto could feel a cool draft on his face, and the loss of warmth and wool.

"Jack," Ianto said again, the name coming out as a half-question.

"You'll see him again. Sooner or later."

Somebody was tapping a syringe, the noise abnormally loud. Ianto wanted to protest because he wanted to wake up and see Jack.

He wanted to see Jack.

But he didn't get a choice about the matter: the needle touched his arm and was pushed into his skin. Ianto feel asleep once more.

- 40 -

Ianto woke up to the sound of the Doctor's voice chattering away aimlessly.

"Right, I found the book you've been reading and I've got it with me. _A Very Short Introduction to Chameleon Circuits & Perception Filters_. I suppose that's a bit of light reading for you? You probably read the library out of ink when you went to university. What degree did you do, by the way? I never got around to asking you and I'm sorry. Anyway, your Dr Harper – very interesting man, perfect for breaking out of a cell and overthrowing creatures of the vortex, but probably odious as a dinner guest – well, he told me to talk to you. Right after insulting my age, the nerve! I'm four times as old as he is, and he calls me a boy.

"Where was I? Talking to you, right. Well, I thought that all that talking gets a bit boring, me eating biscuits doesn't qualify as talking, and switching on the telly feels like surrender. So I thought I could read to you instead, only I've read that book before and it's boring. What am I supposed to tell you?"

Ianto couldn't suppress a smile and opened his eyes.

"I think you're doing rather well so far," he said.

"You're awake!" the Doctor stated unnecessarily and nearly bounced in his seat next to Ianto's bed. "Excellent!"

"I hope this won't turn into a habit, me being unconscious on the TARDIS."

"Don't worry about it, it's happened to me loads of times!"

The Doctor waggled his eyebrows at him and Ianto breathed in deeply. He was safe. He was alive and on the TARDIS and everything was all right.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Before or after they decided to turn your hand into mash?"

Ianto cast a frantic glance at his left hand resting on top of the duvet and saw that it was wrapped entirely in a sort of white gauze.

"It'll heal," the Doctor said, following Ianto's look. "It'll take a while, but it'll heal. Mind you, they did manage to break every single bone in your hand. You'll have scars, I'm afraid."

"But I'll be able to use it again?"

"Oh, yes!" the Time Lord answered, tapping the white material covering Ianto's hand. Ianto flinched, expecting a burst of pain to shoot up his arm, but there was nothing except for a mild numbness that was lessened marginally where the Doctor was touching his hand.

"Give it some months and you'll be right as rain, courtesy of Doctor Owen Harper and Jack's oral fixation."

"So I didn't imagine him."

"Sadly, no. Dr Harper and I were already doing a fine job on our own, but those reinforcements from Torchwood really helped. We found you just as they were about to turn your right hand into pulp, too."

Ianto winced. "What about the Vorticevores?"

"Gone. Vanished. I offered to take them back one by one when we were first separated. They declined and I'm not a man given to second chances."

"But Jack was there," Ianto murmured. "Jack kissed me."

"That he did."

"Is he gone now?"

"Strictly speaking it's us who have gone. Jack will be cleaning up that mess your friend Toshiko created for quite a while to come, linear time will be loopy in that place for the next, oh, three thousand years? There's a reason why the Time Agency is located on an artificial Japanese island, you know. But you, I had to take you away in the TARDIS. The temporal signature of the other you was clinging to Jack like a second skin. I know he wasn't actually there, but I didn't want to risk a paradox. Not with the state you were in."

"Doctor... I'm still alive in the year 2321," Ianto said. "I'd say that's enough of a paradox already."

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Longevity isn't the rarity it's supposed to be. And you, Mr Ianto Jones, are going to live for a very long time if you don't get yourself killed first. You won't be immortal."

"But how can I know what's going to happen to me? What if I warned Tosh and Owen? What if I decided to never go back to the 21st century?"

The Doctor shrugged. "See, I failed that particular exam. However, there's an expression that sums it up nicely, I think: wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. Don't worry about it."

"How can I not?"

"Well," the Time Lord said pensively. "You'll cross that bridge sooner or later. Or not. For now, I'm going to leave you alone with that book of yours and give my ship the attention she's been demanding for the last two days. She's hiccupping, it's quite strange."

He got out of his chair and went to leave the room. He turned around in the doorway and opened his mouth, then shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

"It's not your fault."

"You have no idea," the Doctor said softly. "You all tell me that, and yet I have a hard time believing any of you. You, Mr Ianto Jones, seem to be attracting potential temporal paradoxes for a hobby, and yet I can't help but think that it's my fault. And for that I'm sorry."

"Doctor -"

"Jack left something for you. It's at the foot of your bed."

With those words, the Time Lord disappeared and Ianto sat up to inspect the large military coat that was lying next to where his feet were under the duvet, neatly folded. He touched it with his right hand, taking care not to move his left one. Running cautious finger tips over the thick wool, he leaned over it and inhaled cautiously, imagining that the scent of its last owner was still clinging to it. Then he lay back on the pillows, staring at the boringly familiar coral-patterned ceiling for a moment before taking the book the Doctor had left him, and started to read.


	11. Parts 41 to 48

- 41 -

Postcard #5

From: Ianto Jones

To: Gwen Cooper

The TARDIS, somewhere & sometime in the time vortex, but September 2009 in my personal time line

Dear Gwen,

Greetings from the TARDIS! I trust you and Rhys are both well?

Actually, that's about all I'd write on a real postcard to you, apart from the obligatory description of sights. We never really had much to talk about, after all. I suppose it's because we don't have much in common apart from a misplaced fascination with Captain Jack Harkness. Who knows, maybe he's already returned in your time line? I hope you're happy that he's back.

Well, I know you'll be happy. Do you love him?

I envied you when we thought he was gone. I envied you because Jack trusted you, because he confided in you and took you with him when he went to face Abaddon. And because you of all of us had a half-decent excuse for betraying him. You didn't lose faith and you stayed with him. In retrospect I'd say I was jealous, even thought it seems terribly childish now. It doesn't matter anymore now, it's been nearly two years after all.

And at the end of the day... Well. As I said – It doesn't matter anymore, not so much. I can't say that I miss you, but I look forward to seeing you again, soon.

Until then, take care!

Ianto.

- 42 -

"When are we?" Ianto asked, stepping out of the TARDIS and into a cool and damp London late afternoon. It was dark outside, and light drizzle clung to his hair and face. Ianto burrowed his hands in the pockets of the coat Jack had left him with and turned to look at the Doctor.

The Time Lord locked the TARDIS and then switched on his sonic screwdriver.

"We're in 1981. The Treembalayn we're looking for is heading... west of us. Come on!"

The two of them started walking down the streets busy with people who'd just finished work and were now off to do some hasty shopping or heading for the nearest pub. The Doctor was concentrating on his sonic screwdriver and the signals it was picking up, whereas Ianto looked around him, soaking in all the unique details of an ordinary London day. It had been a long time since he'd been to London, and months since his last visit to a human time period close to his own. The Doctor liked to tease him about wanting to avoid the 20th and 21st centuries altogether because of Ianto's freakish ability to create almost-temporal paradoxes out of nothing. As for Ianto, he was simply glad to be up and about again, back to travelling after weeks of near-inactivity because of his hand and the time it taken it to heal properly.

"She's not going very fast," the Doctor said, puzzled. "Strange, that. You'd have thought with the way she crashed her capsule into the imperial space procession she'd be light-years away by now."

"As you said, she crashed the capsule. Landing on Earth was probably an emergency," Ianto pointed out. "She could be looking for spare parts here."

"The Treembalayn barely consider humans as an intelligent species. It'll take your lot hundreds of years to catch up to their standard of technology. Maybe she's injured. In any case, it would be better if we found her before someone else does. 1981 is a bit early for the human race to discover alien life, you aren't supposed to catch on until that space ship crashes into Big Ben!"

"Well, there's always Torchwood. They'll take care of her if we can't find her."

The Doctor threw him a dark look. "I've seen the way Torchwood deals with aliens. The Treembalayn has committed no crime, not a big one anyway, but Torchwood would dissect her. After all, if it's alien, it's theirs. Right?"

"I work for Torchwood," Ianto said quietly. "It's not like that."

"You worked for Torchwood," the Time Lord corrected him. "And it won't be like that in your time, after your arrogance nearly destroyed two worlds."

"I knew nothing about that, you know that!"

"You didn't make it your business to know!"

Sighing, the Doctor stopped and put a hand on Ianto's shoulder. He peered up at his face and said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you, and I know the way Torchwood will become. But right now they're power-obsessed lunatics who don't know what they're up against."

"It's fine," Ianto answered reluctantly. "It's fine. We should go find her, repair her capsule and send her on her way before any damage is done."

They set off again, Ianto following the Doctor across Leicester Square without saying another word. It was raining harder now, and he squinted against the blurred, bright lights everywhere around him. The sounds of rain falling intermingled with snippets of conversation around him, made all the louder in the silence of Ianto's mind. He noticed people staring at them, a tall man wearing an outdated military coat and an Indian teenager dressed in outrageously chartreuse robes.

Leaving the busy Square behind, they turned into a smaller side street which was more quiet, containing shops which were about to close and pubs slowly filling up.

The Doctor pointed ahead. "There you go! There's a small alleyway, a dead end. The Treembalayn should be there."

As Ianto and the Doctor drew closer to their destination, they could make out the excited trilling sounds of the alien they'd been looking for, as well as someone sobbing hysterically. They started running, skidding around the corner and then coming to an abrupt halt. They'd found their missing Treembalayn, no question about it: standing nearly eight feet tall, with spindly legs and brightly coloured feathers covering the rest of its body, the alien was quite hard to miss in any case. She was crouching over a pregnant woman who was holding herself pressed against the wall, tears streaming down her dark face.

"Oh God, oh God, please!" the woman garbled. "Please – Please, don't kill my baby, have some mercy! I couldn't – Whatever I've done, please don't harm my baby!"

The Treembalayn leaned closer to the woman despite her obvious panic, the alien's long beak nearly touching her face. The woman screamed out loud as the alien trilled in a puzzled sort of way and Ianto was preparing to charge at the alien as a distraction, when the Treembalayn noticed him and the Doctor. She stepped away from the woman and observed them out of black, fathomless eyes, trilling again.

"You two were at the imperial procession!" she said finally, the relief obvious in her high voice. "I remember thinking that your robes resemble my lover's feathering during the mating season."

"Why, thank you!" the Doctor said delightedly and then became serious again. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, why were you...?" He nodded towards the woman, who was now crying silently, hands clutching her protruding belly.

"I wasn't about to eat her if that's what you think!" the alien answered. "I'm a vegetarian. No, I just wanted to ask for directions, but it seems that her translation circuits are malfunctioning."

"Actually," Ianto said, "translation circuits won't be invented on this planet for decades yet. I think you may have terrified her."

"Just a bit," the Doctor added hurriedly at seeing the Treembalayn's stricken look. "Humans, you see. They haven't met many off-world species yet and I'm afraid your looks are a bit... exotic."

"But that's ridiculous!" the alien exclaimed. "I mean, they always said that Sol 3 is lagging behind, but... Oh dear. Oh dear," she repeated, turning back to the woman. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart!"

The Treembalayn trilled in what was probably supposed to be a calming sort of way, but the woman clearly didn't take it as such: she flinched and tried to retreat even further against the wall of the building behind her.

"For all that's good and holy, help me!" she cried out towards Ianto and the Doctor. "It's trying to kill me!"

"Madam," Ianto said, stepping closer and taking her gently by the arm. "I assure you, you're perfectly safe. You've just had a slight failure to communicate."

"I'm really sorry!" the alien stammered. "I didn't know! And you two seem to understand me without any problems!"

"We're not exactly human," the Doctor said. "Well, Mr Ianto Jones here is. I'm not. Bit more advanced. What do you say – I've tracked your capsule. It's broken, right? I thought something like this might happen after your, er, mishap during the imperial space procession. I can help you and get you off this planet. You're scaring the locals."

"You would help me?" the Treembalayn asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor! Now, come with me please. We'll go back to my ship and have a look at your transport. Do you have the capsule with you?"

"Of course I do. I've just put it into shrink stealth mode. Thank you so much, Doctor."

"It's my pleasure, Treembalayn. Ianto, can you stay with her for a bit?" The Doctor gestured towards the woman in Ianto's arms. "I won't be a minute."

"Yes, of course," Ianto answered. "I'll meet you in the TARDIS."

"So!" the Doctor said to the Treembalayn. "We'll have to take the scenic route, I'm afraid. Can't have you wandering round in the middle of London again, can we?"

The two of them left, the alien trilling her thanks at Ianto as she went. He nodded back at her and then concentrated on the woman again. She had calmed down, but was still clutching at Ianto with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked her. "She's gone now. Look."

The woman raised her head and turned around, inspecting every corner of the alleyway, as if making sure that the alien really wasn't hiding in some nook or cranny. Eventually she focused on Ianto again, her tear-streaked face tight with anxiety.

"What was that thing?" she asked. "How... How could you talk to it? Who are you?"

"My name is Ianto Jones. My companion was the Doctor. You were... accosted by an alien, a Treembalayn, a female of the species Burbalayn. She's crashed her transport and was asking you for directions. Unfortunately neither of you possessed the technology for her to make herself understood."

"You're barmy," the woman whispered. "You actually expect me to believe that?"

"No," Ianto replied and slipped a hand into his coat pocked where he'd started to keep some Retcon pills he'd made with the Doctor's help during his long convalescence.

"I can make you forget about his. I've got this sort of amnesia pill," he said carefully. "I understand that this must have been a great shock for you."

"It's not me I'm worried about," the woman replied. "It's my baby. I'm... It's not been an easy pregnancy and I was so scared... I'm so scared something's going to happen to my baby."

She wiped her eyes and stood up straight, looking Ianto square in the eyes. Biting her bottom lip, she looked young to Ianto, barely grown out of her teenage years. Her thick coat didn't hide her pregnancy and water droplets clung to the dark wool and her black hair, making them both sparkle in the orange light of the alleyway. Ianto frowned, a sense of vertigo and déjà vu distracting him. He clenched his left hand into a tight fist, and the twinge of pain shooting through his palm and fingers brought him back to the present.

"How far along are you?" he asked gently.

"Seven months," the woman answered.

"There's something I can do," Ianto said slowly, "to check whether your child is fine. Do you trust me?"

The woman nodded after a moment's hesitation. "For all I know you've saved my life today."

"She really wasn't going to harm you," Ianto muttered and took his sonic screwdriver out of the pocket of his jeans. He smiled reassuringly.

"This won't hurt," he said, standing close to the woman and passing the tip of the screwdriver over her belly. She was watching him intently, her brown eyes fixed on his hand.

"Right," Ianto said after a minute of scanning. "As far as I can tell, your baby girl is in perfectly good health. All the vital signs are in order. She's doing fine."

"How do you know I'm expecting a girl?" the woman asked roughly. "I didn't know – How is that possible?"

"Well, it's – It's just my scanner, is all," Ianto said, belatedly realising that his knowledge regarding the state of pre-natal ultrasound technology in the early 1980's was sadly lacking. "You're not supposed to know that."

"And you're sure?"

"Absolutely," Ianto confirmed. "Listen, about that pill - "

"You can't make me forget this!" the woman pleaded. "Please. You said it yourself, everything's fine. I won't tell anyone, I promise! And, well, she won't either," she said with a smile, patting her belly. "I wanted a girl, you know. My first child. Her name's going to be Lisa. Lisa Hallett, it's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Ianto actually took a step back in horror, the sonic screwdriver falling from his suddenly numb fingers and clattering to the floor, rolling into a small puddle of water. The sound of rain rang loudly in his ears now, or maybe it was just blood rushing through his ears. The woman – Lisa's mother, this was Lisa's mother, Emily Hallett, and Lisa had never known her, didn't and couldn't remember her because she'd died giving birth to her – stretched out her hands, steadying him. Ianto flinched back violently, his eyes fixed on her dark, concerned face.

She was talking, talking to him, and Ianto knew that she was asking whether he was all right. He knew he had to answer her, but this was Lisa's mother and she was pregnant with the woman he'd wanted to spend his life with.

"Are you all right?" Emily Hallett shook him and then thumped him on the shoulder for good measure. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," Ianto said hoarsely. "It's the name – It brings back memories."

"Lisa?" she asked. "Somebody close to you? Good memories or bad memories?"

"Both," Ianto replied. "She was my girlfriend. And I... I loved her. I would have died for her."

"What happened?"

"I didn't get the chance," he replied. "She... See, it's been – years, and I've moved on, but... I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you with this. Name your daughter Lisa. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Thank you!" Emily smiled. "Listen, I've got to go. My husband is probably waiting for me already. But thank you. I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"It's fine," Ianto answered. "It was my pleasure."

Emily nodded, and then stood on tiptoes to breathe a soft kiss on his cheek. Leaving Ianto behind in the alleyway, she looked up at the sky and grimaced at the clouds high above. She was gone with a swish of her coat and Ianto stayed where he was, clinging to her lingering presence and that of her unborn daughter, whom he'd loved.

- 43 -

Ianto entered the library late at night, finding the Doctor busy with steadily eating his way through a huge pile of biscuits and completely engrossed in an interactive edition of _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. The Time Lord looked up as Ianto approached and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Why are you awake? Hand giving you trouble again?"

"No, thank you," Ianto replied. "My hand's been mostly fine for some months now."

Sitting on the couch next to the Doctor, Ianto proceeded to study his dressing gown-clad knees with the utmost concentration.

The Doctor helped himself to another biscuit and chewed noisily.

"So," he mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. "What's on your mind? You've been funny for some weeks now, and not in the ha-ha sense. What got you out of bed in the middle of the night?"

"Maybe I just wanted the pleasure of your company," Ianto offered, suddenly terrified of what he'd have to say.

The Doctor snorted. "Right. Come on, spit it out! I've just got to the bit with the bowl of petunias and I can actually adjust the speed at which it falls down to the planet, isn't that amazing?"

"I'm sure it is. Absolutely fascinating."

"So?" the Doctor prompted.

"Doctor, I -" Ianto started to say and then interrupted himself, focusing on the scars on his left hand and avoiding the Time Lord's questioning gaze. "It's time," he said finally.

"Time for – oh. Oh. It's like that?"

"It is," Ianto agreed. "I'm sorry."

"But why now?"

"Because ever since – Well," Ianto said. "It's been nearly two years and you've shown me so much. I've seen more things, done more things than I ever thought possible. But I've always known that I'd have to go back one day. You knew that. You must have known that."

"I did," the Doctor said, closing his book and putting it on the table next to him. Ianto looked at him and realised that the Time Lord had aged since he'd first met him. He'd grown from a teenager into a man, and even though such concepts were without meaning to the Time Lord, his face was now matching the timelessness lurking in his dark eyes, revealing a truly powerful and ancient alien. Ianto couldn't help but feel young compared to the Doctor, inexperienced and blundering his way through a life beyond his wildest dreams.

"I'm sorry," Ianto said softly.

The Doctor inhaled deeply. "Nothing to be sorry for. As I said, I knew."

"Do you understand?"

"I do. Ianto, you all leave sooner or later. You're not the first and you won't be the last, but it's -" The Doctor broke off.

"When do you want to leave?" he asked a while later.

"Now is as good a time as any."

"Right," the Doctor said. "Right."

- 44 -

Postcard #6

From: Ianto Jones

To: Captain Jack Harkness

The TARDIS, two years to the day after you went with the Doctor

Jack,

I've made my decision. I don't know whether it's the right one, leaving the man you waited over a century for. Then again, you left him as well in the end, didn't you? Everybody does.

I've seen so much, Jack. I don't remember how I used to be, how I used to act. Do you think it'll come back to me once I'm wearing the suits again, once one day starts blending into the next one without me being able to skip a few hours in between? Once I'll be stuck again in linear time and things are as they should be fore someone born at the end of the 20th century.

I've missed you, Jack, even though the time we've been apart outweighs the time we've been together. I don't even know why, but it all seems to be coming back to you. What do you think: it could either be the universe's idea of a joke, or its idea of symmetry. Perhaps a bit of both? I wonder when you'll come back to us, as you inevitably will do. I wonder about that accident that'll happen to Tosh, Owen and me just as inevitably. Will Gwen be glad she was spared or really, really pissed off because she wasn't? I wonder whether I'll be able to visit Lisa's empty grave and whether I'll be able to walk the streets of London again, see Canary Wharf.

Maybe it's just for curiosity's sake that I'm leaving the Doctor? Though that wouldn't be a bad reason, I reckon.

I'll miss him as I miss Akiko Jay and Thomas Tahabita. But this is finished now, whereas we never said goodbye. I couldn't keep my promise to you and for that I'm sorry.

Anyway.

Love (and this may not be an empty phrase after all),

Ianto Jones.

- 45 -

"All packed?" the Doctor asked Ianto as he swept into the console room wearing an unbelievably gaudy Victorian-style dressing gown.

Ianto nodded, looking down at himself and suppressing the urge to fidget. He was wearing exactly the same outfit he'd worn when he'd first boarded the TARDIS. There was his wallet, there were his keys. He'd fastened the Bluetooth earpiece in his ears, although he hadn't switched it on yet. There was a neat bundle at his feet, consisting of his coat, 51st century wristband and his Time Agency uniform.

"Off we go then!" the Doctor said, setting the coordinates for Cardiff and sending them spinning through the time vortex. Ianto clutched at the console to stay steady on his feet, but their journey wasn't very long. All too soon the TARDIS shuddered to a groaning halt. Ianto released the console and picked up the things he'd be taking with him, two years' worth of memories in cloth and technology.

"When are we?" he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

The Doctor squinted at the screen and then grinned. "Oh, this is brilliant! This is about three hours after we left. I'm doing well – Nobody could ever slap me for _that_!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Ianto said. "Doctor?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"How am I going to explain this? The fact that I've aged two years overnight? My hand?"

The Doctor frowned at him and then bit his lip. "See," he said thoughtfully. "That's the part where it gets tricky. Truth is, I don't know. Never done this before, me, and I don't intend to start. I think... I think you'll be fine. You really haven't aged that much and your hand – You could develop an extreme and obsessive fondness for gloves. Or you could blame it on a really bad accident in the kitchen."

"Helpful as always."

"That's me!"

Ianto turned towards the closed doors, then hesitated and looked at the Doctor again. The Time Lord nodded encouragingly at him.

"Go on through," he said.

"What about my TARDIS key? Do you want it back?"

"No. Keep it. You all do, more or less. It's just in case, you know?"

"Thank you."

Ianto opened both doors. It was a crisp March morning outside. The Doctor had been right, this was his front garden. This was his house, unchanged. It was only its occupant who was unrecognisable after two years or three hours of absence.

"Ianto?" came the Doctor's voice behind him.

"I'm fine," Ianto said, blinking rapidly. "I simply thought..."

"Ianto."

The Doctor put both hands on Ianto's shoulders and they stood face to face. A moment and then the Doctor's lips quirked up in a half-smile.

"Take care of yourself."

"And you," Ianto whispered hoarsely.

The Time Lord drew Ianto down to him and kissed him on the mouth, a chaste touching of lips, an almost imperceptible exchange of warm breath between them.

Ianto eventually broke the contact, feeling the Doctor's hands slip away.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

The Time Lord smiled in response and closed the doors softly behind him. Ianto heard the low thump and listened to the TARDIS' groans. He watched the ship grow fainter and disappear. Finally he walked back to his house, refusing to look back at all.

- 46 -

It was nearly noon when Ianto arrived at the entrance to the tourist information centre. Predictably enough the door was locked, seeing as nobody but him ever staffed the office. He slowly got out his bunch of keys, where the TARDIS key was now hung on a separate small ring, looking completely unremarkable. Ianto unlocked the door and then stared at the keypad installed next to it in consternation. They'd had a separate lock for the office door installed, some weeks before Jack had disappeared. It opened through a number code and as Ianto frowned at the keypad in irritation, he had to own up to the fact that he'd forgotten the right code.

It was understandable, really, that he wouldn't remember a ten-digit sequence after two years, but the prospective loss of dignity that came with having to wave at the CCTV cameras in the hope of someone spotting him was enough to make Ianto scowl.

He would have to resort to cheating, just this once. Ianto stepped in front of the keypad and took out the sonic screwdriver he'd kept in the pocket of his suit jacket. Pointing its tip at the keypad, he activated it and watched the door spring open a second later. Entering the office, he switched on the lights and had just hung up his coat in the small back room and started the coffee machine when he heard the door to the Hub spring open and Gwen call out, "Ianto?"

"In here!" he called out and stuck his head through the beaded curtain. He smiled at her, marvelling at how little she'd changed. Her face, her expression, her hair, they were all the same compared to the picture he'd kept of her in his mind's eye. He could even dimly recognise the clothes she was wearing, the generic pair of jeans and a black top.

"You're a bit late," Gwen said breathlessly, as if she'd run up all the way from the Hub.

"Yes, sorry," Ianto replied, taking a mug from the shelf and hunting in the drawers for a spoon that looked vaguely clean.

"Ianto!"

Gwen sounded inexplicably agitated and he went back into the tourist office, carefully hiding his left hand from her view.

"Yes? Would you like a cup of coffee as well? I'll come down to take your lunch orders in a bit."

Gwen fidgeted and ran a hand through her hair. Ianto looked at her with raised eyebrows, slightly puzzled at her odd behaviour.

"Gwen?" he prompted. "Is something the matter?"

"Well, the thing is," she said, "Jack's just come back."

Ianto paused. "Ah," he said.

"He came back an hour ago. I've, er, just wanted to let you know, because you two... you know."

"I know," Ianto said, warmth blooming in his chest and spreading through his whole body from there. It was a bit like having the glowing TARDIS key hanging round his neck, that pulsating feeling that announced a sense of belonging if he could only get to it in time.

"Thank you for telling me, Gwen. I'll be down in a couple of minutes."

Gwen looked at him as if she wanted to say something. Eventually she simply nodded and disappeared through the door again. As for Ianto, he entered the small storage room and kitchen again to switch off the coffee machine with barely trembling fingers. He put the empty mug back on the shelf and straightened his tie.

Finally he went to lock the tourist office from the inside, looking around his work space with wondering eyes, as if seeing it for the very first time. It was all there, the counter and the leaflets and posters, the old monitor hiding a ridiculously advanced computer system and his bunch of keys lying next to the keyboard.

It was time.

Ianto passed through the long corridor and into the waiting lift. He clenched his left hand and waited for the reassuring twinge of pain, a nervous habit he'd picked up despite the Doctor's nagging. The scars wouldn't be too visible at a first glance. There were many of them, crossing his fingers and the back of his hand. However, they were thin for the most part, and silvery-white in colour. He'd be fine; he would have to be.

The lift stopped and the last security door to the Hub was already rolling open, the orange light flashing above Ianto's head. He glanced up at the ceiling and wondered where the Doctor was, whether he was still careening through the time vortex or whether he'd gone dashing off on another adventure. Perhaps he'd already found someone else to keep him company, or he'd gone to visit Martha Jones, dropping by for a chat and a cup of tea.

Ianto liked that thought.

The Hub was unchanged form the day before, of course. The messy pile of equipment was still lying right beside the entrance because Ianto hadn't cleared it up the night before. He remembered wanting to do it early in the morning, and then getting sidetracked for two years.

And there they were, Tosh, Owen and Gwen, all clustering around the sofa and looking supremely awkward. The cause for this was sitting in the middle of the sofa, eating a bar of chocolate with gusto and seeming to ignore the slightly betrayed and confused looks the team were sending his way.

"Jack," Ianto whispered.

Jack shouldn't have been able to hear him, but he looked up to meet Ianto's eyes nevertheless. He half-rose from the couch as if to meet him, but by then Ianto had already crossed the short space between them and reached out his right hand, grasping Jack by one brace and drawing him to his feet.

"And look who's finally joined the party!" Owen said, but Ianto didn't pay any attention to the other man. No, he was concentrating on Jack instead, the dark blue shirt he was wearing and the texture of the braces beneath his finger tips. They stood eye to eye and Jack blinked rapidly, his breathing calm and steady.

"Sir," Ianto said quietly. "Welcome back."

"Ianto, I -" Jack started to say, but Ianto was already leaning forward and brushing his lips cool lips against Jack's warm ones. Jack tasted like the chocolate he'd just eaten, sweetness with a hint of bitterness underneath. Ianto cradled his head in his hands and drew him closer, stroking Jack's hair and not caring that they had a rather shell shocked audience.

Jack broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Ianto's. He laughed.

"And where have you been?" Jack asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, sir."

"Away. I've just been away for a bit."

"So have I," Ianto replied. "I'm glad you've come back though," he added.

"Seems like you're the only one. Everybody else is mad as hell."

"You just left, Jack!" Gwen said heatedly, crossing her arms in a defiant gesture. Tosh nodded in agreement.

"And I had to go. I was looking for the right kind of Doctor, remember that? I would have opened the Rift to find him."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Owen asked. "Was it worth it?"

"Yes," Jack replied. "In a way. I've been to the end of the universe to find my answers."

"Well, then," Tosh said a bit helplessly. "I guess we won't be needing those anymore."

She pointed towards the files Ianto had printed off for her, the ones which reported sightings of the Doctor in all his various incarnations throughout the past century. Jack picked up the one lying on top and scanned it quickly, reading the short note that Ianto had added.

"Nope," he said cheerfully. "That's not me. Sorry."

Ianto took the file out of his hands and read it himself again, the short sighting of the Doctor and an unknown companion. Smiling, he closed the file gently and put it back on the coffee table.

"I think this has been sorted," he said to Tosh. "I'll stop the search algorithms, they're only taking up space."

"And that's it?" Gwen asked. "Everything's back to normal now? As if nothing of this ever happened."

"Not right now, now," Jack said. "I don't expect you to ignore this, Gwen. I'm not asking that of any of you. But... Well, you're what I came back for. You're my team, and this planet – this is where I'm supposed to be."

"That's good enough for me." Owen shrugged. "I owe you anyway, and talking to the Prime Minister on the phone is a right pain in the arse."

"Tosh?" Jack asked.

The woman looked at him and nodded slowly, her whole body seeming to relax in relief.

"Ianto," Jack said finally.

Ianto looked at Jack. Whatever anger he might have felt in the past over the other man's sudden disappearance, however great his sense of betrayal and loss had been, he couldn't find those feelings within him anymore. He'd seen Jack as the vibrant Commander of the Time Agency and he remembered Jack calling after him as he'd teleported away. Jack had kissed him back to life and given him his coat. Although Jack couldn't remember some of these things anymore and some of them not yet, Ianto did and he knew what they meant.

"It's good to have you back," Ianto said, and smiled.

- 47 -

Ianto was dreaming of swirling reds and blues, of running through deserted streets and the Doctor's dark eyes when something woke him from a deep sleep. He sat up, noticing that the light in his bedroom was on. Suddenly quite a bit more awake, he groped for the gun he was sure that was hidden somewhere in his nightstand.

"Ianto," Jack said and came to stand next to his bed.

"Jack?" he asked hoarsely, abandoning the search for weaponry and sitting up. "What are you doing here?"

"I tried your phone, but you didn't pick up."

"I must have slept through it. How did you get into the house, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I broke in," Jack said, and then smirked at seeing Ianto's alarmed look. "Don't worry, I used a nifty little bit of alien tech. Your front door is unharmed."

"I should certainly hope so."

Jack was staring at him, hands in the pockets of his trousers, the buttons on his coat undone. Ianto stared right back, refusing to grow nervous.

"So?" he prompted. "I'm assuming there's a reason for your nocturnal visit."

"You were gone before we got a chance to talk."

"It was a long day."

"Were you avoiding me?"

"You were busy on the phone when I left. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Maybe I would have appreciated the distraction."

"Is that why you've come here? Distraction?"

"Maybe. But I'd like some answers first."

Jack sat down on the low bed beside him and Ianto grew acutely aware of the fact that he was naked apart from his boxer shorts whereas Jack hadn't even taken off his coat.

"You're different," Jack said. "You've aged, I can tell. And what the hell happened to your hand?"

He took Ianto's left hand before he could hide it under the duvet and traced the scars gently, nearly absent-mindedly.

"It was an accident."

"Well, yeah, I'm pretty sure you didn't do it for cosmetic reasons."

Jack touched his knuckles, one by one. Ianto gasped quietly. He wanted to draw his hand away, but the other man held it tightly, squeezing it almost painfully.

"You see, Ianto, I couldn't resist," Jack said in a light tone that hid something far darker underneath. "I just couldn't resist snooping around a bit. I'm a curious kind of guy. And look what I found in your living room."

He threw something into Ianto's lap. With a jolt, Ianto recognised his 51st century wristband his heart sank.

"Together with a standard Time Agency uniform."

Ianto licked his lips and Jack leaned forward, his whole posture threatening.

"What have you been hiding from me, Ianto Jones? If that's even your real name."

"Of course that's my real name, don't be ridiculous," Ianto snapped. "You've seen my file."

"Are you a Time Agent?"

"With my accent?"

"Ianto -" Jack growled. "So help me, if you don't tell me what's going on -"

"I've found the right kind of Doctor," Ianto interrupted the other man. "I went with him, only I got lost for a little while in the 51st century."

Jack sat back, shock written on his face. He released Ianto's hand and shook his head.

"That's not possible," he murmured. "He would have told me."

"He doesn't know yet."

"But – how?"

"Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey," Ianto told him with a smile. "You know how it is with him."

"Do I ever. Why did you go with him? And for how long?"

"Why did you go with him?" Ianto retorted. "I've been gone for two years in my time line."

"And you've come back," Jack said. "You came back."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"This is my home. This is where I belong."

"With me?"

Ianto inclined his head. "If you want me to. Are you going away again?"

"No. Not in your life time. Not while any of you are still here."

He refrained from telling Jack that this could be a very long time, that this _would_, in fact, be a very long time. Three hundred years at the least, and counting.

Instead he drew Jack against his chest and kissed him reverently, flicking out his tongue and tracing the other man's lips. He started to take Jack's coat off and felt him smile against his mouth. They both fell back on the bed, Jack half sitting, half lying on top of Ianto as he frantically pulled back the duvet to reveal as much of Ianto's naked skin as he could while trying to get undressed himself as quickly as possible.

Ianto laughed, then, the joyful sound reverberating through the room, and clasped Jack more tightly to him, entangling their arms and legs. Jack was back and he was here. Ianto was home and he belonged. The future stretched out before him, an infinite sea of possibilities interspersed with small islands of certainty. He couldn't wait to find out how they fit, sooner or later.

Sooner or later.

- 48/Whole -

Martha Jones straightened her jacket nervously as she stood before the entrance to the rather shabby and inconspicuous-looking tourist information centre. Jack's e-mail had simply told her to be here at some point during the day, but hadn't contained any more useful information. Martha didn't know whether he was intending to pick her up, or whether this was an example of Jack's sometimes warped sense of humour.

She looked out at the sea stretching out in front of her. A couple were having an early lunch on one of the benches on the quay. Martha became aware that she was probably looking out of place, a young woman wearing a pencil skirt and suit jacket, a brand new brief case slung over her shoulder.

She pushed the door to the tourist centre open and entered.

The small office was seemingly empty and Martha was just contemplating giving Jack a ring to ask what the hell was going on, when a muffled burst of laughter drew her attention to another room, separated from the rest of the office by a beaded curtain.

"Excuse me?" she called out, proud of the fact that her voice expressed poise and self-confidence instead of the anxiety she was really feeling.

The laughter stopped abruptly. Martha could hear some hasty shuffling going on before a man emerged behind the beaded curtain, smoothing down his mussed hair as he went. He was wearing a suit every bit as smart as her own outfit, with a tie that was slightly askew.

"I don't know whether you can help me," she began. "But I'm looking for Captain Jack Harkness."

The man had started smiling widely upon seeing her and now he flashed her a full-out grin.

"I know," he said.

He shook her hand over the counter and was still smiling at her when Jack himself entered the office from the back room.

"Martha!" he said, happiness obvious in his voice. "Hello! I see you've met Ianto."

He swept her into a long hug, nearly taking her off her feet.

Martha nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Torchwood is a tourist information centre?"

"Oh, no," Ianto said. "That's just our cunning disguise."

"Why don't you show Martha round the Hub?" Jack said. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go."

He lightly touched Ianto's arm before he left the tourist, and winked at Martha.

"See you later, sir!" Ianto called after him.

That left Martha alone with Ianto. He was studying her attentively, his eyes bright and shining, until she started to grow nervous.

"What?" she asked. "I haven't got anything on my face, have I? Please tell me I haven't got anything on my face."

Ianto shook his head, amusement clear in his voice. "Oh, no. It's just good to see you, that's all."

"Why? Do you know me?"

"In a manner of speaking. I will, in any case."

Without explaining himself any further, Ianto pressed something behind the counter and a part of the wall suddenly sprung back, revealing a passageway behind it.

"Martha Jones," Ianto said warmly. "Welcome to Torchwood."

_Fin._


End file.
